


The Nightmare

by Daleks_Demigods_and_Dementors



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Murder and Attempted Murder, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original villain - Freeform, Oswald in a Platonic Domestic Partnership with an OC, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 23,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25111942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daleks_Demigods_and_Dementors/pseuds/Daleks_Demigods_and_Dementors
Summary: A typical tragic past. An atypical descent into madness. Fera is an original character, edited into the series, at first only minorly changing the course of events, but eventually becoming a major player (and villain) in the fate of Gotham City.Fera Grimwald is a loner—no friends or notable family to speak of, no connections. She grew up in Gotham, and tried to escape the area during college, but had to return when her father—her last blood relative—fell ill. A few months later, her recent boyfriend breaks up with her and leaves their apartment.Fera—left with a broken heart, an empty room, and bills to pay—puts an ad out in the paper. She knows she shouldn’t be alone for long; the silence gets into her head far too fast. And she fears the endless darkness that follows.But things start to turn interesting when a strange young man with a limp moves into the second room.
Kudos: 3





	1. Sign Here

**Author's Note:**

> Any comment brings joy to my day! Tell me what you think, this is my first work on Ao3!

Only days after she sends out the ad, a rugged-looking man with a limp knocks on the door. He says he’s new in town, down on his luck, and looking for a place to stay to get back on his feet.

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. You wanna look around?”

“Anything is fine, honestly,” he says. “I’ve been living in a trailer the past few days, so I’m certainly in no condition to complain. But if you insist, yes, I’ll look around. And in the meantime you can tell me about yourself.”

Fera gives him a swing through the apartment. “The second room has recently been vacated. I don’t like to live alone, even if I had the means to. I’d move out of this old town if I could, and I tried for a while, but Gotham is my home, and it always sucks you back in, one way or another. You know?”

“Oh yes, I’m in a similar situation, actually.”

“Alright then, your turn.”

“Like I said, I’ve just gotten back into town—I’m a Gotham native but I’ve been out for a while,” the man lies. Fera can see it, but lets him continue. “Now I’m back and just looking for a place to crash. I don’t have a job right now, but it shouldn’t take me long. I’m a go-getter, if I do say so myself.”

Fera thinks for a moment, nods, and grabs a clipboard from the dining table. “There are a few places you’ll need to sign.”

He takes the tablet, holding it gingerly in front of himself. He blinks at it, then looks back up at Fera. “That’s it? No questionnaires, no background checks?”

She shoots him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? This is Gotham. If I cared about any of that, I wouldn’t be here.”

He only shrugs. “I suppose you’re right. I just know I’ve had to do it in the past. Just the customary thing.”

Fera rolls her head back, then looks back at the man. “Alright, you want a questionnaire? How’s this: Do you plan on entertaining obnoxious guests into the Cursed hours of the morning?”

He almost laughs. “No.”

“Have you ever raped anyone?”

He steps back at the question, shock and disgust contorting his face. “No! Of course not.”

“Do you plan on murdering me?”

Her nonchalance confuses yet softens him. “Not unless I have to,” he says slowly.

“Then we’re cool,” she says, handing him a pen. She watches him as he reads and signs various sections of the housing contract, then suddenly laughs to herself. “You know, I almost forgot. I should probably know your name, too.”

He stops, and looks up at her. “Oswald,” he says. “Oswald Cobblepot.”

Once Oswald gets all of his very few possessions moved in, life starts to take on a rhythm. He gets a job as a dishwasher at an Italian place down the street, and starts bringing in a little cash to make up for his half of the rent.

He walks in one evening to find Fera in front of the tv, a thriller playing, dinner on her lap.

“Stuck yours in the fridge,” she says, mouth half full, barely moving her eyes from the screen.

He grabs the plate left for him in the fridge, but on the way back to the couch he spies a picture he’s never taken notice of before. “Hey Fera, who’s this guy with you?”

She turns back to look, but slumps over when she recognizes the picture. “My ex. The one who used to live here. I guess I missed it when I was throwing all his stuff out.” She quickly spins back to the tv.

Knowing not to push, Oswald changes the subject to the movie. “You don’t strike me as a person who enjoys horror movies.”

“I like to criticize the antagonist,” she explains. “Usually the only reason the hero is still alive by the end is because the killer makes stupid mistakes. I don’t know, it’s just a dumb game I like to play when nothing else is on.”

Her roommate sits down on the couch beside her. “You know what? It sounds like fun.”

A week or so after he moves in, Oswald returns from work one afternoon to find an empty bourbon bottle on the living room shelf. Upon closer inspection, he finds a picture frame face down and shattered right next to it. It was the photo of Fera and her ex. It’s then that he hears a muffled sobbing from Fera’s room. On impulse, he approaches the door.

“You know, I don’t know your ex boyfriend,” he says, the noise starting to quiet, “but if he was so ready to break your heart, you probably deserved better anyway.” Hearing nothing from inside, he turns away from the door, and sits down on the couch.

Eventually, Fera appears next to him.

He puts on a thriller.


	2. Oswald Cobblepot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald and Fera start to get used to each other. And maybe they're even... friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to anyone who's made it this far, it's my first posted work on AO3. Questions, comments, and discussions always appreciated!

Every once in a while, Oswald will go visit his mother across town. Once, he accidentally makes the mistake of mentioning Fera. Of course, Gertrude assumes that her son is living with a girlfriend, and… well, he just doesn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise.

He returns to the apartment with a heaviness in his chest. “I accidentally mentioned you to my mother,” he begins.

“Oh?”

“She wants to meet you.”

“She thinks I’m your girlfriend.”

“Yes.” He plops himself down on the couch.

“You’re not going to tell her?”

He stiffens. “Tell her what?”

“Oswald, please. It’s not that difficult.”

He meets his roommate’s eyes for a moment, then looks away. “I’m her only son, her only kid. She wants to see grandchildren. What am I supposed to tell her?”

They sit in the weight for a moment before Fera breaks the silence. “So what will appease her, then. Dinner?”

A smile creeps across his face. “I’m sure dinner will more than suffice.”

That weekend, Gertrude finally meets her son’s first “girlfriend”.

The questions never stop coming. Gertrude wants to know _everything._ How did they meet? How long have they been together? And most importantly, why doesn’t she have grandchildren yet?

Fera just laughs, remaining polite and neutral.

“I must know every woman that comes into my son’s life,” Gertrude says with pride. “No woman is good enough for my Oswald.”

“Now, mother, be nice. I’m lucky to have her.”

“Oh, please, Oswald.” Fera slaps his arm playfully, then turns back to Gertrude. “He’s so modest. _I’m_ the lucky one. You’ve raised a good young man, Gertrude, I have to thank you.”

“Oh! And she thanks me. This is a girl who knows her place. Work to be done, yes, but a good start with this one, my son.”

But eventually the night ends, Gertrude gets tired, and Oswald puts her to bed.

He and Fera make their way back to the apartment.

They often go out together for errands or other such things. People give them looks, but they never seem to mind. They make an odd-looking pair. So?

Then, once—they can never quite remember where they were the first time it happened—they hear the words “couple’s discount” uttered from a cashier.

Oswald can barely say “Oh, we’re not—” when Fera squeezes his wrist.

“That would be great, thank you so much.”

When the worker walks away, Oswald turns to Fera, putting it together. “My, my. You do have a devious side, don’t you.”

“Guilty,” she admits, quite pleased with herself. “I’ve got bills to pay, after all.”

It becomes a habit. Of course, it’s not a difficult act, convincing poor service workers that they’re romantically involved. After living together for a couple of months, they know just enough about each other to sell it. And after the test run with Oswald’s mother, they have an answer to almost every question.

But later on, Oswald begins to leave the apartment more and more, and stay out longer than he used to. Every once in a while, a limo will be waiting outside the building door for him. Fera watches him out the window, as he looks back and forth, and takes a seat inside the fancy car.

She knows he doesn’t tell her everything. She’s fine with that—everyone has secrets, even her. To be honest, his dark side doesn’t concern her in the slightest. She’s seen him get jumpy, and angry… and there’s always that look in his eyes, some days, like he’s seen—and perhaps done—the worst that the world has to offer. But mostly, she’s just concerned for his safety; maybe, just maybe, in a way that has nothing to do with the hassle of finding a new roommate.

But usually, she just turns away, blocks the thought from her mind, and goes to visit her father.

It’s one of these days that she gets home late at night. The apartment is dark, but it’s clear Oswald is not yet home. She makes herself a microwave dinner, trying to keep the voice of loneliness at bay.

The microwave has only just gone off when Oswald steps into the door.

“Fera,” he says in surprise, dropping his keys in the dish by the door, “I didn’t think you’d still be up.”

“Visiting my father,” she says, not turning around. “I just got home.”

When she turns around, she gasps. She didn’t expect this disheveled figure—which far more resembles the man who signed the housing agreement a few months ago than the Oswald she’s come to know—to appear in her living room. A slight tremor runs through his body, seemingly overwhelmed with either cold or shock; his shirt is covered in blood.

“Oswald,” she starts to say, voice shaking, “you—”

“It’s not mine,” he squeaks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She breathes in relief for a moment, processing. “Take it off,” she says.

“What?”

She holds out her hand. “Take it off.”

He does as he’s told, unbuttoning shakily, and placing the shirt into her hand. He wraps his arms around his middle as she takes the bloody shirt into the kitchen. He only pauses in confusion when she starts to fill up the sink with water, then dig through the cabinets for vinegar and cornstarch.

“You’re not going to ask me why I came home late at night, covered in blood?”

She pauses a moment as she shoves the shirt under the cold water. “Are you safe?”

“Well, yes, but I—”

“That’s all I need to know.” She puts a mug in the microwave.

He pauses. Her calmness makes him uneasy.

“Would it make you feel better to tell me what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” He watches as she pours vinegar into the sink, almost reeling at the stench. “I don’t want to get you involved. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”

She turns around. “So you were lying. You’re not safe.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It always is.”

“I know people. I have protections. Protections that I can’t offer to you.”

Fera nods. “I see. Well, then I suppose I should thank them.” She turns to the microwave as it goes off.

“Thank them?” Oswald starts to shiver.

She smiles. “For keeping us both safe.” She brings the mug of cocoa over to her housemate. “If nothing else, at least I can keep a comfortable home for you to fall back to. Drink this, it’ll warm you up.”

Speechless, he takes the mug, and Fera returns to her station at the sink.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I hate bloodstains,” she deadpans. "Tricky bastards."

“That’s not what I mean.” He hobbles farther into the kitchen. “You don’t seem to be surprised, angry, or even the least bit annoyed at any of this. And not a single question. I don’t understand.”

Fera sighs. “I’ve had theories as to where you’ve been going for a while now. I know you don’t work at that restaurant anymore, at least not as a dishwasher. But to be honest, I don’t really care. The only thing that I care about is that you come home safe. Outside of that, I trust you to make the best decisions for yourself.”

“That’s…” Again, Oswald finds himself speechless. “Generous of you.”

She looks at him, then pulls the shirt out of the sink, starting on the cornstarch. “I do what I can for the people I care about. And I haven’t had as many of those lately.”

A heavy silence falls between them.

“You can go to bed if you want,” Fera passes. “It won’t be dry for a while.”

Oswald looks from Fera, to his shirt, to the mug in his hand. Without saying a word, he shuffles into his bedroom.

For a few moments after hearing the door close, Fera pauses. Her suspicions are confirmed: her roommate is working with the darker side of Gotham. She tries to believe that it should bother her—that maybe she should just leave—but she can barely entertain the idea for a couple of seconds before she laughs at herself. How out-of-character it would be for her to abandon someone she cares about just because they have secrets? But it dawns on her then: when did she start caring this much about Oswald? Hadn’t she sworn not to get close to people again? He was just someone to keep the apartment from getting too quiet. He was just someone to coexist with; she barely even knows him. Clearly, he’s been lying about his past, but then again, so has she. There are some things that roommates just don’t need to know.

 _It's easy,_ she realizes. _Living with Oswald, being friends with him... he's not like any friend I've ever had._

Fera looks back when Oswald’s bedroom door opens again. He shuffles out into the living room in a baggy shirt and sweatpants, cocoa in one hand and a blanket in the other. He puts a thriller on, and plops down on the couch.

“Oswald, what are you doing? I thought you were turning in.”

“And make you stay up all alone to clean my clothes? I don’t think so.”

Fera smiles to herself. Perhaps she does have a true friend in Oswald.

When she’s done all she can with the shirt, she leaves it to dry, then moves to sit down on the couch next to her barely-awake roommate. As she curls under the blanket, he straightens, and lightly draws her arm closer in invitation. Exhausted from the day, she relents, and without a word, curls into the crook of his arm as they let the terrified screams and rising music of the tv screen lull them to sleep.


	3. Don't Ask, Don't Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fera knows that Oswald has secrets. She doesn't mind. She's been keeping some of her own.

Oswald wakes with a start, the pitch-blackness of the room echoing the clock under the tv set: 3:00am. Seeing Fera asleep on his chest, he pushes thoughts of morning aside. Just as he’s about to settle back in, Fera squirms.

At first he’s afraid he’s woken her, but her eyes are not yet open, and she soon finds a place to settle. Oswald closes his eyes, but opens them again when his ears pick up a sound distinct from the blowing of fans and hum of electronics: Fera whimpering in pain.

__

He bends to look at her again. Perhaps there’s a pain somewhere she hadn’t told him about, bothering her in her sleep. But the whimpers grow deeper and heavier, even as she stays very still. Before Oswald’s eyes, his roommate starts to convulse, and almost cry.

__

“Fera,” he whispers, shaking her shoulder.

__

Her only response is a scratchy, bark-like: “No.”

__

“What?”

__

“No,” she repeats, a little more forcefully. “No! Stop! Please!”

__

“Fera!” Oswald calls, finally breaking from his trance. He shakes her roughly to make sure she’s awake.

__

When she gasps and straightens up on her own, Oswald turns to her in concern.

__

“Hey. What was that; are you okay?”

__

Fera still hasn’t stopped shaking. “I’m sorry,” she croaks.

__

“Don’t be,” he says, repeating, “Are you okay?”

__

“Yes,” she whispers. “Just a nightmare. Happens all the time.”

__

“I know how it is,” he admits. “Would it be better back in your own bed? A little more comfortable?”

__

“Maybe,” she admits, “but I have to be up in an hour anyways, for work.” She rises from the couch.

__

“Work?” he echoes in disbelief. “I didn’t know you work this early.”

__

“I’ve picked up an extra few shifts a week at Sunny’s Coffee down the street. It’s no big deal.”

__

“Fera, stop. You have _four_ jobs? You can’t work yourself this hard. When did this start?”

__

Fera turns back from the coffee maker. “Just last week. I told you, it’s not a big deal. Just a little extra cash, is all. Saving up.”

__

“Right. Well, I suppose—”

__

“Please, Oswald, just go back to bed.”

__

Oswald sighs, knowing there’s no point in arguing. After everything she’s done for him, without asking questions, he should grant her the same respect. He turns his back to the kitchen, and finally falls asleep again, to the sound of brewing coffee.

__

__

When Oswald wakes up again—at a proper time of the morning—something is hanging around his mind. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for, but he searches the apartment high and low, looking for something to put this feeling away.

__

Just as he’s about to give up, he spots an envelope tucked under a box on Fera’s dresser.

__

“What have we here?” he mutters, eyeing the ‘NOTICE’ on its side. His jaw hangs open when he reads what’s inside.

__

_Monthly rent has been raised by $400, effective immediately. Include all rent money in next payment or face eviction._

__

Oswald reads the date on the notice. It was sent just last week. How were they expected to scrape together an extra $400 in the next week and a half? Why didn’t Fera tell him?

__

Then it dawns on him: Fera’s new job. She didn’t pick it up to afford luxuries, she did it to make sure she and Oswald wouldn’t get thrown out on the street. But a few shifts at Sunny’s would never make up for what the landlord is asking for.

__

He decides right there, he can’t let this go on any longer. It’s time to go begging to Don Falcone.

__

__

The next time he meets with the Don, he does his best to bring it up gingerly, but his desperation still peeks through.

__

“Please, Don Falcone. They surprised us. We’re going to be evicted.”

__

“If you want me to take care of the landlord, son, all you have to do is ask.”

__

“No, no, please. We like it where we are, we’re in a good situation. All I’m asking for is enough cash to satisfy the rent.”

__

“Your housemate,” Falcone muses, “you like her?”

__

“She’s like a sister to me,” Oswald admits, for the first time out loud. “She takes care of me. Asks no questions. I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

__

Falcone nods. “Then consider your request done. Your landlord won’t bother you anymore.”

__

“Thank you, Don Falcone,” Oswald bows, grinning. “I’m forever in your debt. You won’t regret this.”

__

__

A week later, Fera trudges up to the apartment in disbelief.

__

“I don’t understand,” she proclaims to the open air.

__

“Hmm?” Oswald turns from the kitchen.

__

She moves to the couch as she continues. “I was just at the landlord’s desk to pay rent. He sent me away without paying. He said our entire rent has already been paid. In full. In _full,_ Oswald. They must have made a mistake.”

__

“How do you know _I_ didn’t pay it off early?” Oswald jokes, hobbling over to the couch and handing her a cup of coffee.

__

“I asked them if you did. They said an ‘outside donor’ came to pay for the entire floor a few days ago. They promised a whole floor’s worth of rent for the rest of the year. Who the hell would do something like that?”

__

“I don’t know,” he sighs, “but we can thank them for saving our skins. You can quit that position at Sunny’s and actually take care of yourself.”

__

Fera looks over at her roommate. They lock eyes for a moment, and she notices him setting his jaw, holding his breath. Watching for her reaction.

__

_ Of course. Of course he has something to do with this. And he sees me watching him. He knows that I’m on to him. It’s a battle of wills. _

__

She stares into her coffee mug for a second, then rises from the couch. “You’re right. Let’s take this lucky break while we have it.”

__

Behind her, she can hear him let go of his breath.

__


	4. Darkness Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald finally discovers what Fera meant when she said she shouldn't live alone.  
> Fera is worried about Oswald. Oswald is worried about Fera. Eventually, they will both have to face the darkness within.

A while goes by without incident. Fera almost forgets about Oswald’s secrets. But then, one night, he doesn’t come home. She doesn’t see him again the next day, either. She wouldn’t be worried, normally, but then another day passes with only the fans and tv static for company. The last time she saw him was Thursday. It’s Sunday afternoon. The darkness starts to creep in.

_He’s not coming home._

_You’ve driven him out._

_He hates you._

_He’s dead._

_He’s rotting in a ditch somewhere._

_You should have been there to save him._

_You’re not even looking._

_He’s probably better off dead than with you._

_He would never stay for long. No one puts up with you for long._

_You should have known better than to think he cared about you._

_He left and didn’t even bother to say goodbye._

_You’re a monster, and he knows it._

The door opens with a pained _squeak._ Uneven footfalls enter the threshold, but Fera can barely shake the fog out of her head enough to register the world around her. She looks up when she hears her name.

“Fera?” Oswald calls, likely not for the first time.

“Huh?”

He watches the fog slowly fade from her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Oswald…” she says slowly, regaining consciousness. “I thought you weren’t coming home.” She begins to shake as reality slams back into her mind.

He puts a hand on her shoulder. “Fera, how long has it been since you ate?”

She hadn’t noticed, but her stomach was rumbling. There’s a deep ache in her gut that she can’t quite figure out. “What time is it?”

“Two in the afternoon.”

_ Impossible. How has it only been an hour since I sat down? _

She stands up and almost falls over.

“I thought you were supposed to be at work.”

“Work?” Fera repeats. “What work?”

“Your Monday job,” Oswald prods. “The department store. Did you call in sick? Should I call in sick for you?”

“Monday,” Fera repeats. No wonder she’s about to topple over. She hadn’t been up from the kitchen table in 25 hours. She looks back at the chair she rose from, mind numb. “I sat down on Sunday.”

Oswald just stares at her. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday?” He gets her to sit back down, and pulls the other chair next to her. “Fera, what happened to you?”

She retreats back into herself for a moment, but manages to say, “It was so quiet. I… I got lost.”

Oswald rushes to get something, anything, from the fridge. He suddenly realizes this is what she always meant when she said she shouldn’t live alone.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he sets a bowl of grapes down in front of her. “I’m so sorry I was gone. I wasn’t thinking.”

She doesn’t respond. It seems she can’t even hear him.

“I will never make you live alone again,” he vows, more to himself than to his roommate.

She pauses, grape halfway to her mouth. “Thank you,” she mumbles half-heartedly, before popping it in.

Oswald fubles for something to help get her out of the slump. He sets up a microwave meal for her, then turns the TV on to her favorite thriller.

Eventually, she moves herself onto the couch next to him, curls into a blanket, and engages in the usual game.

  
  


After a good night’s sleep, Fera returns to normal, and stays that way.

A long time passes without event.

Then, the war.

Fera knew there was something big coming in the inner workings of the Gotham Underworld. And she knew that Oswald was under a lot of pressure. He had been gone more and more often lately, and when he did eventually return, he would be “thinking.”

Thinking, she can understand. But what Oswald was doing was plotting and planning.

_He’s going to be involved._

_He’s going to be the center of it._

_He’s going to be in danger._

It’s everything she can do to sigh, tuck the worries away, and help clean up his bruises. At this point, Fera knows not to press. Oswald never tells her what he’s up to, not that she asks much. She just lets him retreat into his own little world, waving her off when she sits down next to him, asking yet again if he’s alright.

“It’s nothing,” he tells her. “Nothing you need to be worried about.”

But eventually he gets caught up in his own web of lies. Maroni’s men follow Oswald home one day, finding out for the first time that he’s been living with someone.

They creep in one day when Fera’s home alone.

“Oswald?” she calls behind her when the door opens. “Is that you? Dinner isn’t ready yet, but it’ll only be a second longer. Just take a seat and I’ll—”

She’s hit from behind, and blacks out.


	5. Penny For Your Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fera wakes up in a strange room. A gut feeling tells her it has something to do with Oswald.

When Fera comes to, she’s tied up on a chair in a small, windowless room. Tables line the walls around her, many displaying various tools, devices, and contraptions. She takes a few shaky breaths, trying to get her bearings.

_Where am I?_

_What am I doing here?_

_How long have I been here?_

_Who did this?_

_What are the tools for?_

_Where is Oswald?_

She has no idea how long she spends spinning her wheels in the little room, the bright overhead bulb hanging from the ceiling starting to give her a headache. Eventually, the sound of a door opening startles her back to reality. A slender, well-dressed man with a face worn with scars and worry appears at her side.

“Hello there,” he says, voice almost soothing. “I’m Rowland. I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

“Can you please tell me where I am?” Fera begs. “Or why I’m here? Or what’s going on?”

“That depends on what you know,” Rowland answers.

“What?” Fera stares in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“Can you tell me who you are?”

She hesitates.

“This is going to be a lot easier if you can be honest with me, dear. Just answer my questions and you can be on your way. Now, your name, please.”

“Fera Grimwald.”

“Good. Now, Fera, what do you know about the Penguin?”

“The what?”

Rowland sighs. “Oswald Cobblepot. Do you know him, yes or no?”

Slowly, Fera starts to put the pieces together. She begins to hesitate again, but realizing she is in no position to escape Rowland, his questions, or the little room, she swallows, and answers. “Oswald is my roommate.”

“Very good,” Rowland chuckles. “I’m glad we’re being honest with each other.”

It finally locks into place. Of course he’d already known the answers to his own questions. He just wants to see how far he can get without needing to turn to the… more unsavory methods at his disposal.

“In the name of honesty,” Fera says, surprising them both, “tell me, what am I doing here? Who has me here?”

Rowland chuckles again. “Don’t worry about that, dear. We’re just having a nice little chat about our mutual friend.”

“Oswald doesn’t have friends,” she bites back.

“He has you.”

“I’m not his friend,” Fera lies, voice shaking. “He just takes up the room next to mine. I need the extra noise. That’s all.”

“And that extra noise, do the two of you talk often?”

“A bit. Not about much.”

“About work?”

“No. Personal life stays outside. I don’t ask him what he does with his time, and he respects my sleep schedule. That’s our deal.”

“But do you know where he works?”

“Some restaurant down the street.”

“Anywhere else?”

“No. Not that he tells me.”

Rowland’s face falls in mock disappointment, but his eyes betray him when they light up. “That’s too bad,” he says, picking something up from the table nearest him. “I was really hoping we could figure out a way to be civil and honest with each other.”

“I am being honest,” Fera croaks. “I’m telling the truth, I don’t know anything about what he does when he’s away from the apartment.”

Rowland pauses and perks up. “And how often is he away from the apartment?”

“Just during the day, usually,” Fera says. “Sometimes he calls when he has to work late. At most—just occasionally—he’ll be out for a day or two when he has to go on a business trip or something.”

“And what does he say when he gets back from these business trips?”

“Nothing.”

“And you don’t ask him where he’s been, or why he comes home all beaten and bloody?”

“No, I just clean him up and put in a movie, I swear—”

He fully turns on her, leaning in. “But you know he’s not just some restaurant manager, because you have to clean him up.” Rowland turns sinister, voice devoid of any calming or curious nature that he had donned only minutes ago. “Which means you’ve been lying to me.”

Fera starts to break, terrified sobs escaping her throat. “No, no! He doesn’t tell me anything, I swear!”

“It really hurts me that you’re not giving me more to work with here,” Rowland says, approaching her with something from the table. “But not as much as it’s going to hurt you.”

When Fera wakes up, the only sensation she feels is something gnawing at her stomach. For a moment, she wonders how long it’s been since she’s eaten, but then realizes there’s more.

She looks down in horror to find blood running down the length of her torso. She begins to cry—so it hadn’t been a nightmare after all.

When Oswald returns to the apartment later that night, he drops his keys in the dish, expecting to walk into an apartment clean from Fera’s afternoon off—as she’d recently taken up an almost feverish hobby of keeping their living space as tidy as possible ever since she could quit two of her three jobs—with the distant smell of a lingering, late supper left over from Fera’s meal. Instead, he finds a mess: a supper half-cooked still sitting on the counter. Newspaper and a magazine laying by two empty plates on the table. Television playing an eerily soft documentary in the background.

“Fera?” he calls. At first, he worries that she might be sleeping, but it isn’t like her to just go for a nap—or do anything, for that matter—in the middle of making dinner. Especially not this late.

His mind then turns to a likelier, more terrifying option: she’s had another episode.

“Fera?” he calls again, making his way toward her room. He knocks; she doesn’t answer. When he opens the door, she’s nowhere to be found.

He starts to panic. “Fera!”

It’s when he gets back into the main room that he finds the note. He sighs in relief.

 _Thank god,_ he thinks. _She’s probably got some perfectly reasonable explanation for this sudden disappearance._

But when he picks it up, he realizes it’s not from Fera after all, but Sal Maroni.

His hands shake as he reads the words:

_If you ever want to see your little girlfriend again, come see me. Let’s settle your lies once and for all._

  
  


When Rowland opens the door again, Fera squirms, but fear turns her bones into lead when she hears the familiar chuckle.

“I’m glad you’re awake. I’d hoped a good rest would jog your memory a little bit.”

“Where is Oswald?” she demands. Her voice comes out far softer than she intended.

“Funny you should ask,” Rowland says, surprising her. “He’s just come in to see you.”

“He did?” Fera stammers in disbelief.

“Oh, yes. Unfortunately, though, he didn’t quite make it all the way here.”

“Where is he now?” she asks, a little louder—yet somehow more desperate—this time.

His face forms into a half-grin, half-snarl. “He’s being taken care of in a different wing. You won’t be seeing him soon. At least, not in one piece.”

“What’s going to happen to him?”

Rowland laughs, deep and chilling, and terror rolls down Fera’s spine. “I’d worry more about yourself, dear,” he says. “I’ve just been given the go-ahead to have my fun with you until I finally get some answers.”


	6. A Hard Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald's rescue attempt doesn't go quite as planned. Fera digs deep in a wild attempt to free them both.

Oswald is brought by two goons into a dark, stiff room somewhere down a winding hallway. Waiting inside are two armed guards, and the Don himself.

“Please, please, Don Maroni,” Oswald stutters. “You—you don’t need her. You can let Fera go, she doesn’t know anything, I swear.”

“Maybe not,” Maroni agrees. “But I doubt it. You leave clues, Penguin. And she sounds like a smart girl. I think she must know quite a lot. A lot more than she’s letting on.”

“No!” Oswald squirms as one of Maroni’s men forces him into a seat. “I swear, I swear on my life, I keep my underground life a secret. She doesn’t ask, she doesn’t get hurt, that was an unspoken agreement. But…” he swallows, “but I’ll tell you everything, everything you want to know. Please, just let her go.”

“Your life for hers, huh? That’s quite noble for a squirming bug like you.” Maroni thinks on this. “You know what, Penguin? You drive a hard bargain, but I believe you. I’m sure she doesn’t know anything.”

Oswald sighs in relief, despite himself.

“Which means we have no use for her.” Maroni turns to a man standing by, and simply commands, “Kill her.” The guard immediately moves to exit.

Penguin’s head shoots up. “No! No, you can’t!” He wrestles with the man holding him to the chair, but can’t break free. “She won’t say anything about this, just let her go!”

“No, of course she won’t say anything about this. Because she’ll be dead.” Maroni stares down his captive opponent. “So start talking, or soon we’ll have a second body to ditch.”

Oswald just freezes, terror coursing through his body at the thought of Fera being murdered after he’d come so close—but also at what’s coming for himself. Don Maroni stands tall above him, glaring down at him, waiting. No sound escapes his quivering lips.

“Fine then,” Maroni finally says, “maybe a night in the slammer will do you some good.”

He nods to the others in the room. They immediately start to rough-up Oswald, physically sedating him for the move ahead. He tries to fight, but it’s nowhere near enough. Once the Don leaves, they wait a few more minutes, then start the journey down the hallway to a solitary block for Oswald.

  
  


A guard comes into the room while Rowland is working on Fera.

He whips around, taking a deep breath, preparing to yell. “What do you want?!” he commands.

In her daze, Fera only hears the other voice utter “Penguin… Down the hall.” Immediately, fear erupts in her stomach.

_Oswald. He’s here. He’s—_

She is broken out of her thoughts when the door slams shut. Looking around the room, she finds herself totally alone. But in his haste, it seems Rowland has left one of his tools at the bedside.

Fera takes a deep breath to steady herself, and reaches for the bladed object. She reaches as far as she can, but can’t feel her way towards it. She’s about to give up when her fingers just barely brush the cool metal. An ecstatic noise escapes her as she uses her fingertips to maneuver it into the center of her palm, and soon she’s slicing it against her ties.

As she exits the bed for the first time in… she can’t even remember how long, her knees buckle beneath her. Hunger pangs in her stomach and the ache threatens to swallow her, to drag her down into an endless, dark spiral… but before she gives in, she imagines Oswald in a room similar to this one, tied down, drowning in his own blood.

She pulls herself to her feet, and makes her way out the door; daggers in her glare, blood in her teeth, and a fire in her heart.

She follows the sound of distant feet, one hand still gripping the blade, and the other gripping the wall as she stumbles down the corridors. They’re not far ahead of her, but not too close to hear her following them.

When they finally reach their destination, Fera is close behind. She can hear Oswald groveling from a few doors down.

She had been right: the place they took Oswald was a lot like her own room, but much more barren. The space was not intended to intimidate him; they had clearly already had that covered by the threat on Fera. Everything that needed to happen, then, was meant for conversation—and whatever psychological torments come with it.

The only things standing between Fera and Oswald now are two figures—whose backs are turned, completely unaware of her presence. She turns the blade over in her palm, and locks her eyes on Rowland’s back.

By the time the security systems activate, Fera and Oswald have left the warehouse far in the dust.

“He’ll be after us,” Oswald shivers, watching the building grow smaller in the rearview mirror. “We can’t go back to the apartment.”

“I know somewhere we can go,” Fera admits. “Somewhere they won’t know to look.”


	7. Come Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fera takes them to hide out in her childhood home until the fog clears, which pushes her to open up about her family. In return, she demands that Oswald come clean about his life in organized crime.

“My childhood home,” she explains as they pull up the driveway. “We’ll put the car in the garage, and as long as we keep the blinds closed, no one will know we’re here.”

Oswald looks around when he steps inside. The place is pristine. It seems as if no one even lives there, save a magazine lying on the dining room table.

“When my father was transferred to the hospital, I took up the care of the house. You should have seen it a few months ago. The place was a dump.” Fera beckons Oswald into the kitchen, and starts making coffee before grabbing the first aid kit from the closet. As it starts brewing, Fera starts to clean up her friend’s wounds.

Oswald takes a seat at the kitchen table. “I knew your father was ill, but I had no idea he was in the hospital. I can’t imagine the toll that must take on you. The bills, the visits, the—”

“He wants nothing to do with me. I don’t pay his bills, he doesn’t want me to visit. I do anyways, of course, but mostly he just pretends to be sleeping. I’ve been estranged from my family since I first left Gotham.”

“Speaking of… where’s the rest of your family? Your mother?”

“My mother died three years ago. I didn’t know until I came back to town last year, when my father’s health started to decline. In fact, it wasn’t even him who called me. It was an old acquaintance of mine who was his nurse at the General. When he came in after the first palpitations, she recognized him and gave me a call. I tried to move back in, but once he was released the first time, he told me to get out and stay out. By then I had reconnected with a few people I knew from high school, so I dragged my stuff over to this guy I’d been seeing, and, well, you know the rest.”

Fera sits across from Oswald, handing him cocoa as she takes a sip of coffee. They watch the sun begin to rise outside the cracks in the blinds. The elephant in the room—the adventure of the night—hangs over them like a thick fog.

“You shouldn’t be so kind to me,” Oswald says, staring into his mug. “Not after what you’ve suffered on account of me.”

“I’d do it again,” she mumbles. His head snaps up in surprise, but before he can say anything, she continues. “And I might have to. So next time, I’d like to know what I’m in for.”

His mouth hangs open in defeat. He knows after everything that’s happened, she deserves to know the truth.

“It’s time to spill, Oswald. No more secrets.”

He tells her everything, from the very beginning. Working for Fish, his betrayal, the run-ins with Jim Gordon, working his way into Maroni’s circle, becoming Falcone’s spy. By the time he’s finished, the sun has risen completely, and Fera has torn through nearly the entire coffee pot. On a regular day, it would be something like breakfast time.

Fera nods, silent for a moment as she takes it all in. “I can see why you didn’t want me to know all this, before. Dangerous information, indeed. On a very dangerous man.” She thinks a moment longer, then stands, collecting their mugs to wash. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long night.”

He stares in disbelief. “You’re not going to throw me out?”

At the sink, she turns back. “Why would I?”

“For lying. For putting you in harm’s way. For the reward, for any number of things.”

Fera sighs, and turns the water on. “Oswald, I’ve known you’ve been lying to me for a long time. If I was just going to throw you to the wolves the second you told me the truth, I would’ve just left you in the hands of that dog, Maroni.”

“But why? I don’t understand, what do you have to gain from this?”

Fera shakes her head. “Do you really not understand the concept of friendship? We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well over these last months. I know there’s more to you than some killer.”

“But I am,” he reminds her. “I _am_ a killer.”

“Everyone has a dark side, Oswald. Even me. That’s okay. It’s not the worst thing you can be. Not the best, but not the worst. You’ve become like a brother to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Oswald smiles at himself, in awe. “I’m not going to pretend to understand, but thank you. And if you don’t mind, I think I’ll take you up on that sleep.”

“Bedrooms are upstairs, take whichever you want.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I’ve just downed four and a half cups of coffee in one sitting. Plus, I had a little nap under Maroni’s care. I won’t be going to sleep for a while. You go ahead.”

Oswald excuses himself, and Fera hears him clomp up the stairs, waiting for a bedroom door to close, before she turns to her own wounds. Rowland had really done a number on her, and it was going to take a while to clean up.

She takes her shirt off, giving it the same cold-water-and-vinegar treatment she had used with Oswald’s so many times. Then, grabbing a few dish towels from the closet, she turns toward the hole in her stomach she had just barely had the strength to keep Oswald from noticing. She stuffs the first dish towel into her mouth, bites down hard, and gets to work.

After three agonizing hours of cauterizing, stitching, and bandaging, Fera can finally rest. She heads upstairs to find fresh clothes for herself and Oswald. The door to what was her brother’s bedroom is closed, so she digs through her father’s drawers for an old shirt and sweatpants, and drops them, folded, in front of the door. Once she’s changed into a new outfit of her own, she drops down onto her own bed and falls asleep instantly.

She wakes up around noon, sore just about everywhere, and takes her spinning head into the kitchen to make lunch for herself and her guest.

But when she gets there, she finds Oswald already making lunch. He looks up when he sees her in the doorframe.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, looking around at the mess he’s created. “I would have asked, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fera mumbles, in awe of her surroundings. “I just didn’t realise you knew how to cook. I would’ve been putting you to work.”

They both crack up, but even that amount of stress on her torso makes Fera double over in pain.

Oswald’s face falls in disappointment. “Something you want to tell me?”

Fera gets her bearings, but remains silent, not meeting his eyes.

“Something to do with this?” He gestures to a pile of bloody rags, bandages, and metal spoons Fera left on the counter.

“I meant to clean that up before you—”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

“I can handle a little blood.”

“But you shouldn’t have to! You should have told me.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m fine, okay? Trust me, I’ve got it handled.”

Oswald just shakes his head, and turns back to the pan in front of him. “Well, it’s almost ready, so take a seat. There’s something we need to talk about.”

When they’ve finally sat at the table, Oswald takes a breath. “Fera, about what happened yesterday…”

“Oswald, seriously, you don’t have to apologize again.”

“Yes, I do. Because it’s not over.”

Fera stares. “What do you mean?”

“The war has only just begun between the Falcone and Maroni crime families. I can’t be gone for long, or my whole plan might fall apart. You should stay here, where it’s safe.”

“No. I’m not going to stay here.”

“You can’t go back to the apartment. Maroni knows about you. Falcone knows at least that you exist, but probably more than I’d like. You need to stay hidden until I can get them to wipe each other out.”

She starts to panic. “You can’t leave me alone. There must be something else I can do.”

He thinks for a moment, then nods. “My mother. If you must, I will allow you to stay with her until this is over, but I can’t have you running into danger again so soon. If I make it out of this alive—”

“Wait, wait.  _ If, _ Oswald?”

“The path that I am on is a dangerous one. If I make it out of this alive, everything will change. I am going to need you to be here to help me when it’s all over, while I rebuild what’s left.”

“And if you don’t come back?”

Oswald stares down at his plate. “Then, if you would be so kind, I’d ask you to take care of my mother in my absence.”

Fera can barely believe what she’s hearing, but manages to accept the situation. “Fine. If it comes to that, I will. But please, Oswald. Be safe. Just come back.”

Fera stays at Gertrude’s place for over two weeks before Oswald finally finds his way back. He’s bloody and exhausted, but when Fera opens the door, he has a huge grin on his face.

“I did it,” he proclaims breathlessly. “I’m the King of Gotham.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As fans will note, this ends season 1 of Gotham. Next season, we'll see Fera getting a little braver in her attempts to meddle in Oswald's crime life, bringing in more of some familiar characters.


	8. Like a Princess in a Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald and his new empire are threatened by the arrival of Theo Galavan. Oswald and Fera conflict over her role in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This segment begins at the start of Season 2

Fera and Oswald have returned to the apartment, now the place of retirement for Oswald when he’s not busy being the King of Gotham.

As Oswald’s political and social influence keeps growing, his contact with Fera begins to dwindle.

“I just want to keep you safe,” he says. “The more important my enemies think you are to me, the more danger I’ll be putting you in. And I’ve already been through that once. I’m not eager to ever repeat that.”

And they have a great system going for a while.

That is, until Theo Galavan comes to town.

“So what do you think about the new guy?” Fera asks one day. “This Theo Galavan.”

Oswald’s writing slows, and he sets down his pen. “Can I be honest?”

Fera walks over with two mugs, setting one down in front of her friend. “Always.”

“I think he’s clever.”

“A stunning review,” Fera comments, taken aback.

“Maybe. He could be a gigantic opportunity.”

“Or?”

Oswald sighs. “Or he could be dangerous.”

Fera shifts in her chair. “And what does that mean? For you, specifically.”

“It means a shift in operations.”

“It means you want me to go into hiding.”

“No, no. Not exactly. I just think I may need to relocate—”

“No, Oswald. I’m not afraid of whoever, or whatever—”

“This is not a debate. I’m moving everything I can’t live without into the club within the next week.”

Fera stops. “You’ve already made up your mind so fast?”

He nods solemnly. “Just yesterday.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Oswald moves out, just like he said. Fera knows she can’t change his mind, but she comes to visit the club once in a while to check up on him. It was during one of those visits that Fera notices that something's off.

“Spill.”

Oswald stiffens. “What are you talking about.”

“I know you, Oswald. Tell me why you’re acting so weird.”

He almost starts to deny it, but quickly changes his mind. “Things have gone downhill very quickly regarding our new mayor. Meet me at home after hours.”

“At home? So my apartment is only your home when it’s useful to you?”

“Hey,” he puts a hand on her arm. “Wherever you are will always be home to me.”

Fera meets his eyes, and her voice softens. “I’ll be home tonight. But be honest with me, Oswald, are you okay?”

“I am, for now. But there are more complications. I’ll explain everything tonight. Now get out of here before someone sees you with me.”

Begrudgingly, Fera makes her way out of the club after grabbing one last drink.

That night, Oswald waddles in at 3am.

“Fera?” he calls into the apartment.

A light clicks on in the kitchen. He flinches at first, paranoia already setting in. But Fera walks out into the living room.

He gives a sigh of relief as he hears his friend say: “I’m not asking again. What’s going on with you?”

“I’m going to do something that’s against my best interest.”

“That really doesn’t sound like you,” Fera jokes, but upon seeing his expression becomes worried. “Oswald, please. Sit down. Let’s work this out.”

A part of him wants to back out. It would be too much for her, she doesn’t deserve that burden. But before he realizes it, he’s already started and can’t stop. As he settles into the couch next to her, he finds himself spilling everything—his blackmail of Jim Gordon, his involvement with Theo Galavan, the capture of his mother, his intent to hire the local arsonists to do Galavan’s bidding. Fera just listens, nodding.

When he's done, she takes a moment to consider what he’s said. “So the question is, how do we beat a man who holds all the cards?”

“We can’t,” Oswald says. “Not when he has my mother. Every second she’s with him, she’s in danger. I can’t screw up. I have to do what he says.”

“You need to send in a rescue team. I can rally some troops, and figure out—”

“No. You need to stay as far away from this as possible, understand?”

“Don’t say that. I can help you. I  _ want _ to help you.”

“Fera, please.” He takes her hands in his own. “I’m literally begging you. Stay away from Theo Galavan. The way you can help is to stay out of harm’s way. Understand?”

Fera holds her breath, wondering how in the world he expects her to agree to this. But she relents. “Fine. But please, Oswald. Tell me immediately if there’s anything I can do to help. You know me. I’ll come when you call.”

“I know,” he smiles sadly. “And that’s why I won’t call.”

Within the next week, Fera hears about the murders and attempted murders on the folks running for mayor of Gotham. Then, the spree of burnings.

“Please, Oswald,” she whispers at the television. “Just don’t get caught.”


	9. On the Passing of Jonathan Grimwald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fera begrudgingly takes care of business, as one does for a family she has not chosen and was not chosen by.

It is just around this time that Fera gets a call from Gotham General. Her father fell into an unexpected cardiac arrest, and died earlier that day.

She quietly sets about making funeral arrangements, to lay him in the last plot of land reserved for the Grimwald family. He had been upfront with her when she came back to Gotham a few years ago: they reserved only three plots after what happened to Dustin. Fera would have to make her own way, or die in a ditch for all they cared.

She worked overtime for weeks to pay off all the expenses. Not because he deserved it—he didn’t—but it was the least she could do for family. The last gift she could give to her old life: a final, quiet goodbye to the Grimwald line.


	10. Enigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fera tracks down Oswald in an attempt to finally get him to stop running away from her. The truth about his past few weeks finally comes out, revealing further motivations for pushing her away.  
> Their relationship gets complicated when a new player joins the game. His intentions are hard to follow. Will he mend the recent rift in Fera and Oswald's friendship, or tear them further apart?

It’s only when Fera watches Theo Galavan be declared Mayor on television that she starts to truly fear for Oswald’s safety, and what will become of him now that Galavan has the city under his control.

But she keeps her ears on the news, and considering he’s been a prominent figure in Gotham recently, she has to assume his death would make the news. That’s at least a good sign.

Despite her fears, she knows now is the time to set out and look for him.

Eventually, she tracks him to an unfamiliar apartment a few blocks from the GCPD. She presses her ear against the door, and can just barely make out two voices—one of them is definitely Oswald. The other sounds familiar, but she can’t discern where she’s heard it. She puts the thought out of her mind; the mission comes first.

She knocks. The voices stop on the other side.

Time crawls until a man Fera doesn’t recognise opens the door. His thin frame looms over her with piercing eyes and a forced, yet polite, smile.

“Can I help you?”

She swallows, and puts on her bravest smile. “Hi there. Sorry to be a bother, but I have reason to believe that my friend is staying with you.”

He shifts uncomfortably as his clearly pretended smile drops into a sneer. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about. This is a studio apartment. I live alone. Good day.”

“Please, I haven’t heard from him in a while and I just need to know he’s okay.”

“Hey, is that Fera’s voice?” someone calls from inside.

 _Oswald,_ Fera thinks as she pushes through the door.

The apartment is small—in a single glance around the space, she finds him sitting on the bed, and jogs over to him.

“You know this woman?” the man asks Oswald, dumbfounded.

“We live together.”

Fera finally reaches her roommate and throws her arms around him. “Oswald! I was so worried.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” the host calls awkwardly, watching them. “I didn’t realize it was like that.”

Oswald breaks from Fera’s grip for a moment. “No, it’s… it’s not like that. At all.”

“I see,” he says slowly, somehow lying using only two words.

“Oswald, what the hell happened to you? You should have come back to the apartment, I could have—”

“You have no idea what I’ve been through the last few days! There is nothing you can do for me. I don’t want your help, and I don’t want you near me anymore.”

Her heart almost stops. After everything she’s done, without questions, or fear, or even regard for her own safety, the only person who had cared about her since she left her parents is now leaving her high and dry.

_He doesn’t need you._

_He doesn’t want you._

_He’s better off without you._

Her throat begins to close up, and she can feel a tremble in her voice as she stands. “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. You’re right, you don’t need me.”

“No, Fera, that’s not what I meant.”

“Goodbye, Oswald,” she says, already heading for the door.

“Wait!” He gets up to follow her, wincing as he walks.

“Mr. Penguin you need to get back in bed.” The man tries to stop him, but he slips through his fingers.

“Fera, please, don’t leave, I’m sorry!” All three people have made it out into the hallway.

“Get back inside, someone could see you!”

Oswald ignores his warnings, addressing only Fera. “Please, come back! I just don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

She turns around, but walks no closer towards him. “What do you care? You don’t need me; clearly you have lots of friends to take care of you. I’m just some little pet that can be stored away and pulled out whenever you want,” she finishes with a hiss.

“That’s not true. I was trying to keep you safe.”

“Safely trapped inside a tiny, maddeningly silent apartment, keeping the tv and radio on 24 hours a day just in case I hear your name, because I know you’ll never call to tell me you’re okay. Slowly eating myself alive living my stupid little life knowing you’re out there doing the _real_ work for this city. What kind of a life is that, huh?”

The host frantically calls for their attention. “It’s clear you two have some stuff to work through, and don’t get me wrong, I think you’re making great progress here, but would you mind coming inside the apartment so nobody, I dunno, _calls the police?_ ”

Oswald and Fera think a moment, but both realize that he’s right. Whatever situation is going on has to be fixed, but that can’t happen out in public. They sigh, and make their way back into the apartment.

As she passes him, Fera turns to the host. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so rude. I didn’t even ask your name.”

“Edward Nygma,” he says matter-of-factly. “But my friends call me Ed. And, well, any friend of Oswald’s…”

They watch as Oswald climbs back into bed.

“Ed Nygma,” Fera repeats. “I’m Fera. Oswald’s—”

“Roommate, I know. He’s spoken of you. I apologize; had I known it was you before, I would have let you in.”

“Please, don’t. There was no way to know. In times like these, you can never be too careful. Thank you for letting me come in, anyway.”

“Of course. Take all the time you need. It’s a small space, but I’ll be in the kitchen.”

She nods, and Ed moves to the other side of the small apartment room that he calls the ‘kitchen’.

“Well?” Fera calls.

Oswald turns around. “Well?” he echos.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

He half-laughs. “What should I say? I was keeping you out of the fight, and you were out of the fight. I’m sorry you were a little bit bored while I was gone, but you’re alive. I stand by my actions.”

“So you’d rather never see me than put me in the tiniest bit of conflict. This is Gotham, Oswald, it’s dangerous _everywhere_.”

“But you lived to fight another day! The people closest to me end up hurt, or worse, and I can’t save everyone, but I could save you.” Oswald’s voice starts to get lower as he chokes up. “I did what I had to do, and it worked. I can’t say that for everyone.”

Before Fera can say anything else, she notices something catching in Oswald’s throat. He swallows hard, and turns away, but Fera can see that his eyes are wet. It takes her by surprise. Oswald doesn’t cry. He’ll scream and throw tantrums, or go absolutely, threateningly silent, but she’s never seen him cry before. She watches as he goes to sit on the bed and sits down. Fera follows, approaching gently.

“Oswald,” she says, sitting next to him. “What happened to Gertrude?”

He tightens up, but then suddenly breaks. Every emotion he’s been holding in for the past week finally rushes out in tears and whimpers.

“He killed her,” Oswald cries. “He killed her right in front of me.”

In that moment, Fera’s heart breaks for her friend. She had spent the last few weeks angry that she had to be alone, never knowing what he was up to, but all of a sudden the stakes of the situation flooded through her bones. The thought chills her spine to think that Galavan had murdered that beautiful soul. To think their new mayor was capable of not only kidnapping, and the blackmail of the kingpin of Gotham, but of murder in cold blood. To think that the people could be so swayed… so blind. To think that a man like this could be allowed to run the city—to even walk the streets—makes Fera’s blood boil.

She looks down at her hand when she feels a warm wetness creeping through her fingers. She finds that she’s been clenching her fist so hard, it’s started to bleed. Shaking herself free of her own head, she wipes the blood onto her pants and turns back to Oswald, still shaking and breathing heavily, but no longer fully crying.

“Oswald. I’m so sorry.”

He looks up.

She proceeds with caution. “Do you want to tell me what happened that night?”

It all comes pouring out. Finding his mother, Butch’s betrayal, the murder, the escape. Everything. Fera just sits, listening to every detail that’s happened since they last spoke. She doesn’t move until he’s finished, but when he finally falls silent and she begins to squirm, she finds one of her hands interlaced with Oswald’s. She realizes she must have grabbed it to try to stabilize him during the more difficult sections, but has no memory of actually doing it. Regardless, it worked.

But when she looks up, the sky has gone dark. She hadn’t expected to stay so long.

He looks up when she rises from the bed, and Ed turns around too.

“It’s late,” she explains. “I’m sorry for overstaying my welcome. It’s time for me to go, and Oswald, if you’d like to come with me—”

“That’s not a good idea,” Ed blurts, stepping out of the kitchen. “Oswald should not leave. The mayor will have eyes and ears all over the city. They’d find him immediately, and that would only lead to the murder of all three of us.”

Fera nods. “I see. Well then, I suppose I’ll be off. I’ll see you soon, Oswald. Ed.”

Ed tenses. “Mmmmm that’s not a great idea either.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a known associate of Penguin. If you start randomly coming and going from a stranger’s apartment shortly after his disappearance, someone might get suspicious, take a snoop around, and long story short we end up in the same place as the last idea. Frequent visits are not an option.”

“Ed, this is crazy. I haven’t seen him in weeks, and after everything we’ve talked about today you expect me to just go back to my old life, knowing he’s here? No way.”

He smiles. “Actually, that’s not what I’m suggesting. I never said you couldn’t be here. Only that you shouldn’t be coming back and forth.”

Fera stares at him, dumbfounded, wondering if he’s really offering what she thinks he is.

He answers her silent question with another question. “Would you like to stay in my apartment while Oswald is recovering?”

Oswald sits up straight. “What? Are you crazy?”

“I know, the apartment is a little small for three people, and sleeping arrangements would have to be made, but—”

“I’m still a wanted man.” He turns to Fera. “You shouldn’t even be here. It’s still dangerous to be around me until Galavan is dead.”

“Actually, this is probably the safest place for her. You know where she is at all times, and as long as we’re careful, no one can trace you here.”

“But—”

“Thank you, Ed,” Fera responds. “It’s a very generous offer. I accept.”

Oswald just rolls his eyes, then rolls over.

In a matter of minutes, Ed and Fera are arguing over who will be sleeping on the couch versus the floor.

“Please, Ed. I’m an unexpected guest, I can’t expect you to move to the floor when you’ve already given up your bed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a welcome guest. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Are you two serious?” Oswald pipes up. The other two turn their heads. “This bed is generously big enough for two people, and it’s not like Fera and I haven’t fallen asleep on each other before. It’s basically the same thing.”

“Oswald!” Fera hisses, glancing at Ed.

“What? It’s not a big deal. No one has to sleep on the floor, and I get to sleep at all because my roommates have stopped arguing!”

“He’s got a point,” Ed admits, a little awkward. “It’s getting late, and if you’re honestly okay with it…”

“Yeah, I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

“All fine.”

“Great!” Oswald claps his hands together. “It’s settled. Now can we all find our places and turn off the lights so I can get my beauty sleep?”

Fera chuckles. “Call it what you will, it’s not going to help.”

“Oh, shut up.”

In minutes, everyone’s settled, and the lights are off. Fera slides onto the bed and turns her back to Oswald, falling into a fitful sleep.


	11. Five Nights At Eddy's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up from a nightmare, Fera takes some time to get to know her host a little bit better.

Darkness consumes her. Voices echo from every side. She’s running down a dark corridor, full of twists and turns. There are no doors, but faces appear at every window, pounding, scraping, clawing to get inside. Eventually, the hallway ends, but there is no door; just an empty wall. The sound of cracking glass gets Fera to turn around again, and the people outside start to make their way in. The broken glass scrapes up their flesh as they crawl through, rivers of red running over their faces, down their arms, pooling at their fingertips. They start to crawl, hobble, stumble, or run towards her, madness in their eyes. Desperation and hunger. Some of them laugh. Some of them scream. They draw closer and closer, and soon it’s Fera screaming, as she sinks down the wall. They’re nearly on top of her when everything goes dark again.

She wakes up sweating. Looking around at the moonlit studio, she slowly starts to bring herself back to reality.

Trying not to wake Oswald, she slides out of bed, and makes her way towards the window. Watching the gentle flow of people down in the street has often helped calm Fera down on nights like this.

“I come by the moon, retreat by the day.”

Fera jumps at the sound, but calms down when she realizes it’s only Ed.

Before she can ask what he means, he continues. “You are better for knowing me, though fight to keep me at bay. I can startle you, or drag you softly away. To many a gift, to others a crime. Either which way, you can not escape my time. What am I?”

She thinks for a moment—much longer than she would have taken were she not so sleeplessly bleary—before the riddle becomes obvious. “Sleep.”

“A good night’s sleep is very important,” he says matter-of-factly, approaching the window next to her.

She sighs. “I get nightmares. Nothing more than a bother, usually, but on occasion they wake me up. I’m sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Not at all. I’m sorry to hear about your nightmares.”

“I can’t thank you enough for letting us stay with you until Oswald heals.”

“A traumatic experience, indeed. Though one thing still puzzles me.”

“And that would be?”

“What’s a citizen like you doing with a man like Oswald Cobblepot? You seem normal enough. I can’t imagine what would compel you to give your loyalty to him, clearly knowing his reputation.”

Fera takes a breath. “What can I say? I’ve seen him. Beyond all that. At first I just needed an extra body in the apartment, a little extra noise, but now he’s my best friend.”

“Forgive me for pushing, but you seem… close.”

“He’s like a brother to me. He’s all I have.”

“No family? Connections?”

“The family I used to have is all dead, though they never were a great family to me in the first place. My whole life I’ve never had many friends, everyone thought I was a freak. I suppose I proved them right, in the end.”

“You’re not a freak. You’re kind. To be honest, Gotham could use some more people like that.”

Fera gives him a passive smile, and turns back toward the window. “So what about you? What’s your deal? How did my best friend wind up in your apartment?”

“Well as for myself, I’m a forensic analyst and volunteer M.E. at the GCPD. As for Oswald, I found him out in the woods a few days ago, living in an RV. He clearly needed medical attention. I took it upon myself to help a fellow in need.”

“But you know who he is. What he’s done.”

Ed sighs. “Yes. Well, I may have had an ulterior motive.”

Fera raises her eyebrows in surprise. “And that would be?”

“Advice. On how to do the job.”

“Forensics?”

“Murder.”

Fera chokes back a laugh. “You? A killer? I can’t see it.”

His face turns stone-cold. “I’ve already killed three people. Two involved close-calls. I’m good, but there’s something I’m missing. I was hoping he would be the solution, but your friend is a tough nut to crack. He’s done almost nothing but mope and sass me all day every day since he got here.”

“That’s Oswald, all right.”

Ed turns to her. “So you don’t care that you’re living in my house after I just confessed to murder?”

“You’re asking me if I mind living with a killer, after knowing I’ve spent the last year living with The Penguin?”

“Fair enough.”

“It’s weird, though,” she admits, looking out the window again. “Knowing that he has this whole other life, where people are after him. They fear him. Call him ‘The Penguin’.” She looks back at her friend, sleeping soundly in bed. “To me, he’s always just been Oswald.”

“You knew the man before The Penguin,” Ed realizes. “What was he like, back then?”

“Honestly?” Fera recalls. “Kind of a loser. Not the kind I  _ used _ to be friends with—people who will only ever achieve the absolute pits that humanity has to offer—but like, he wasn’t living up to his potential, and it was obvious. All he did, all day long, was eat my food and whine about being on his feet all day at his stupid job. He was an average nobody. But there was something in his eyes. A hunger. A passion. So of course it didn’t surprise me when I found out he was picking up a little extra action on the side.”

“And you didn’t mind? Even when you found out what he was up to?”

“We’ve all got our dark side, Ed. Originally, our protocol was ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell,’ but before long it became too big to ignore. So I made a decision.”

“And what decision was that?”

“To trust him. Believe in him. To stand by him no matter what. Because I believe that he’s good. Not like… boy scout, stick up his ass, that fake version of goodness that even the darkest of people can hide behind. I mean that underneath all that filth he’s picked up along the way from the bastards that live only to tear other people down, he really cares about things. Not many things, or people, or whatever he decides to set his heart to, but he loves his precious few things and he’s prepared to fight for them till his last breath. I don’t understand it much myself, but then again I’ve never had anything much worth fighting for.”

“Eloquently put,” Ed nods.

“Thank you.”

They sit in silence for a moment, lost to the landscape below.

“As much as a good night’s sleep is important,” Ed says, “I do enjoy staying up into the deepest hours of the night. It’s peaceful. A time for brainstorming.”

“No one expects anything from you before the sun rises.” Fera swallows. “You can be whoever you want. Nobody watches you. Judges you. It’s like a law of the universe: no one can expect you to be someone you’re not before the sun rises.”

“Is your degree in philosophy?” Ed asks.

Fera almost snorts. “What?”

He backpedals. “Well, I assume you pursued higher education, so according to your affinity for–”

“Biology.”

Ed is taken aback. “Really? Biology?”

She relents. “And psychology.”

“There it is.”

“I was hoping to continue into biochemistry,” Fera admits, grabbing Ed’s attention, “but I was only halfway through it when my father got sick, and well… things have gotten sort of messed up.”

“It seems so. How long ago was all this?”

“Oh…” Fera thinks, “almost three years now.”

“And you’ve stayed in Gotham since then?”

“Yeah. For some reason, I just can’t seem to stay away for very long, as much as it hurts.”

“Does it hurt? Your memories of before you left?”

“The streets cry out to me,” she starts, slipping into a shadow somewhere between memory and nightmare. “It’s like the walls of every building I used to know start to bleed with all the worst versions of myself—the version of myself that used to live here, back then. They echo as I rush past them, screaming back at me all the funny names the other kids used to call me. I see all their faces in the windows, but when I look again, they vanish. I trip somewhere and lose my balance, and all of a sudden I’m looking up at the roof of a school bus and somebody’s kicking me in the face. It takes leaving. It takes seeing the outside world to realize just how messed up this place makes us all.” She snaps back to reality. “How could you tell?”

“Takes one to know one.”

“You’ve been out? Seen the mainland?”

“I have.”

She turns back to watch the street below. “We’re a rare kind here, I’ve noticed.”

Ed nods. “As have I. Most people can’t stand to leave this place, it seems. Although, you and I found our way back here, one way or another. So I suppose we’re not so different from them. No matter what pushes us away, we always find our way back.”

“We do, don’t we. This city just has that kind of effect.”

There’s another pause before Ed turns away from the window. “Well, goodnight Fera. I should be turning in again before it gets too light. Work tomorrow, and all.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Ed.”

“I hope the rest of the night treats you better than the first part.”

Fera smiles. “Thanks.”

Ed heads off to the couch, and Fera follows a few steps behind him, towards the bed.

As she tucks in beside Oswald, he rolls over, arm flopping over her middle. In his sleep, he inhales, and pulls her closer. Fera just sighs, rolls her eyes, and settles in.

By the time she opens her eyes again, Ed has already left for work. Fera and Oswald have the day to themselves, which is mostly spent in food fights, prank calls, and watching thrillers.

But that night, there’s another in their company. Jim Gordon.


	12. Jim Gordon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald and Gordon go after Galavan once and for all, but the trouble isn't over yet.

Fera just stares down at the man on the bed. “Why do we have him here, again?”

Oswald rolls his eyes. “How many times do I need to explain it to you? Jim Gordon is a good man, and he needs our help.”

She glares him down.

“He’s going to help me kill Galavan once and for all,” he deadpans.

“There it is.” She gives a sarcastic grin to her roommate. “But seriously? This is dumb. He hates you. He’ll stab you in the back.”

“First of all? He’s my friend. Second, he’s in no position to be stabbing me in the back even if he wanted to. We want the same thing.”

By the time Jim wakes up, Fera has put her worries behind her, joining in the jovial hymns of Ed’s piano playing and vocal trio.

Long story short, Oswald and Jim rally the troops to go after Galavan.

“Now, Fera, I know this is a lot to ask of you,” Oswald starts, “but just this one more time, please—”

“I know, I know,” she tuts, rolling her eyes. “Stay behind with Nygma. Let the  _ machos _ take care of it. I get it.”

He knows she’s disappointed, but he plays into their game, hoping it’s the last time. He pats her cheek. “Good girl. I’ll be back soon.”

She holds his hand to her face for a moment. “You better.” She lets it drop, and he walks away to join Jim.

Eventually, she gets approached by Jim’s girlfriend.

“So…” she draws out, sliding in awkwardly next to Fera. “Our boys, huh?”

Fera scoffs and rolls her eyes, nodding, “ _ Men, _ am I right?”

“You’re absolutely right.” She pauses, unsure of how to approach. “So, you and Cobblepot, huh? Never really saw him as the relationship type, but—”

“Hey listen,” Fera cuts her off, taking a defensive position. “I’m gonna stop you right there. First of all, roommates. Best friends, even. Maybe a swindle or two for a couple’s discount, but nothing more, alright?”

The woman chuckles, putting up her hands. “Alright, alright. You know what? That’s fair.”

Empty air hangs between them.

“I’m Lee.”

“Fera. You’re with Jim, I take it.”

“Yep. That’s me. The girl with Jim.”

Something in her tone presses Fera to ask further. “Well you’re certainly not a cop. What’s your story, then?”

Lee looks back at her inquisitively. “I’m a doctor; was practicing at Arkham until I became the M.E. for the GCPD. You?”

Fera laughs curtly. “You mean before I became the Penguin’s trophy roommate? I’m a Gotham native, went to the mainland for a degree in psychology and biology. I tried to continue into biochemistry, but never finished it. My father fell ill and I had to come back to take care of him.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been very hard for you, I know how—”

“Bastard deserved what he got. Eaten from the inside out, just like the rest of my family. Just like me.”

Lee eyes her warily. “And what ate you?”

“He did.”

Lee decides not to press. “I’ve never really seen you around,” she says.

“I spend a lot of time at home or at work. Three jobs, you know.”

“Three?” Lee looks incredulous. “You can find three spare jobs in Gotham?”

“A coffee shop, a convenience store, a clerk at Park Surgical. Well, to be fair, I bounce between two and three depending on the situation. When Oswald was pulling his weight, it was two, but he’s been out a while, so…”

“Oswald,” Lee laughs. “I forget he has a real name sometimes. Crime lord, kingpin…  _ Oswald.” _

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, I just forget he’s like… a  _ person _ outside of all that gang stuff. Outside of  _ The Penguin. _ ”

“I know what you mean, sort of. I always forget he’s this big kingpin. To me, he’s always been just Oswald. Must be the same for the famous Jim Gordon, huh?”

“I suppose. I never really think about it much, to be honest.”

“Fair enough.”

At that point, it’s time to start heading out. Jim has refused to help, but he and Lee are escorted out by Oswald and his men.

Fera and Ed watch them all go.

She turns to him. "What now?"

He thinks. "Do you by any change like video games?"

Later on that night, Oswald returns.

“So?” Fera pulls Oswalds aside. “You’re all good?”

“Theo Galavan is dead. We’re free.”

“Oh, thank god,” she sighs. “Does this mean you’re coming home?”

Oswald takes a breath. “To be honest… No. The mayor has disappeared. Eventually his body will be found, and someone’s going to be blamed.”

“Then let me hide you this time, ple–”

“No, I can’t risk anything else pointing back to you. Jim Gordon knows who you are. I trust him with my life, but anyone else in the GCPD is a crapps shoot. No one else can know about your relation to me.”

Fera’s hands start to shake, but her face remains strong. “Alright, Oswald. Do what you have to do. But I’ll be waiting, alright? You can come home whenever you need to.”

“Okay. Okay, I will.”

Fera moves back home that night.

Ed calls every evening after work to see if she’s heard anything from Oswald. The answer is the same every time.

“Not yet. But I’m sure he’ll get in touch soon.”

A month later, Ed’s call is very different.

“I saw Oswald.”

“What? Where? When? How is he?”

“Barnes arrested him. He confessed to Galavan’s murder, and apparently claimed he did it alone.”

“What? Why?”

“I can’t even begin to understand why he would do it. To protect Jim? Maybe us, too? I saw him in holding; he looked… sad. Pathetic. It reminded me of when I found him in the woods.”

“What’s going to happen to him?”

Silence hangs on the other end of the line.

“Ed?”

“He pled insanity. They’re transferring him to Arkham tomorrow.”

“But that’s crazy. Oswald’s not insane!”

“He committed murder, Fera. They believe he is, and that’s all that matters.”

“And Jim Gordon took no responsibility?”

“Of course not, he’s a cop. He’s going to be under suspicion, but they can’t do anything without getting a ton of bad press when they throw Gotham’s Golden Boy under the bus for murdering the mayor.”

“This whole thing makes me sick.”

“I know, but there’s something else. You might be in danger. If any of the cops get wind that you’re an associate of the Penguin—which at this point is common knowledge to anyone in Gotham’s underworld—they’ll come after you for questioning.”

“I can handle a couple cops, Ed, but thank you for worrying about me.”

“Maybe. But there are still dirty people in GCPD. They might take this as an opportunity to hit Oswald while he’s down. They could fake evidence, or even so much as drag you out back–”

“You think that someone would want me dead? Kill an innocent person just to hurt Oswald? That’s ridiculous. No one would do that.” She pauses. “Would they?”

“He’s made a lot of enemies. Any one of them could find you now that you don’t have his protection.”

“But the Penguin is out of the game. I’m not a threat, just a nuisance.”

“I know you think that. But you have no idea what they think.”

Fera takes a stabilizing breath to slow her mind. “Okay, Ed, I’ll bite. What’s your solution?”

“Come back and stay with me.”

She doesn’t know how to respond.

“Only you and Jim Gordon know about my association with the Penguin. Only Jim Gordon knows about your association with me. No one will look for you here, it’ll be safe. Only for a little while until things calm down.”

“I don’t know, my apartment—”

“Please. If not for you, then just to put my mind at ease.”

Fera thinks for a moment. “Okay. Okay, Ed. When do you want me?”

“The sooner the better. Tonight, if you can. You know how quickly things can change around here.”

Fera spends the next week holed up at Ed’s place, trying to balance her jobs, eating around Ed’s schedule, and worrying about Oswald. After a few weeks like this, she can’t take it anymore.

She visits the Penguin at Arkham Asylum.


	13. Soulless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fera visits Penguin at Arkham, but the man she knew is far away.

The visiting room at Arkham is small, but despite the space, three guards stand at as many entrances, visibly buff and likely armed to the teeth. The whole place smells oddly sterile, in a false way that that reeks of illness and death, like a painted-on smile that hides sharp teeth. The lights in the room are so harshly bright it almost makes her head hurt. Over the buzzing of the lamps, she can barely make out the shrieks of the insane from within.

Fera can’t imagine Oswald in a place like this.

_ He doesn’t belong here. He’s not like these people—the ones who bend so far they break, irrecoverable. Everyone has their darkness, but only the ones who succumb to it wind up in places like this. Oswald isn’t like that. He always bounces back. He can handle his darkness, it doesn’t break him. _

She’s awoken from her thoughts at the click of a lock from the door in front of her. Two more guards file into the room, sandwiching Oswald himself.

The light makes his striped cover-all glow so garishly white, she almost has to shield her eyes, but a different sight shakes Fera to her core.

Oswald. He’s… smiling.

It’s eerie, the way he smiles down at her. There’s a soft film forming over his eyes, usually harsh and alert. His lips part in an almost laugh-like display of teeth and joy, a rarity for her friend when he’s not actively speaking. There’s a genuine warmth in his face that would seem pleasant… on anyone else but Oswald.

It gives her shivers. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“Fera!” he announces as he sits down. “It’s so good to see you! How have you been this last week? It feels like forever since we’ve spoken.”

She barely recognizes his voice.

_ This is wrong. This is so wrong. What have they done to him? _

“You’re right, Oswald. It’s been far too long.”

He nods. “Well, I’m so glad you’re here now. They’ve been taking such good care of me here.”

She knows she shouldn't ask this in front of the guards, but she can’t shake the thought from her mind. “Oswald, why are you here? You’re not crazy.”

He chuckles. “No, no I’m not. Not anymore, at least. I was troubled when I came here, but now I can see the error of my ways. The doctor showed me that.”

Fera does her best to swallow the horror in her throat. “It appears so. You seem… changed.”

“Changed, yes. Perhaps I am. Good things happen when you’re taken care of by people who care about you, like they do at Arkham.”

The comment shocks her. “I care about you.”

For the first time, his smile wavers. “It was a different situation, certainly—”

“What are they doing to you in here, Oswald? Are they hurting you? Drugs to make you behave?”

The questions begin to shock him, and his face falls. Fera watches the gears start to turn, and the facade begins to fade as the questions echo in his mind. He begins to look like himself again.

“Please, Fera, don’t ask questions,” he begs, with his own voice this time. There’s panic in his eyes. 

Before she can even react, she jumps when a firm hand grips her shoulder from behind.

“I think it’s time for you to go, little lady,” says one of the bigger guards behind her ear. Two more guards from the opposite door step forward to grab Oswald. He barely flinches when they put their hands on him.

They stand up at the same time, fear locking their gazes.

Fera can see Oswald desperately wants to run, to fight—but whatever caused him to act so unnaturally when he came in is still clearly causing him some lag, because he allows the guards to gently escort him out despite his eyes continuously searching for a way to reach out to his friend. As if he’s willing himself to move towards her, but his body can only turn away.

So she fights. She screams, and flails, and pulls out of the guard’s grasp over and over, but she can barely make it a foot before she’s taken again. A second pair of hands grip her arm like steel, and she’s shoved out the door she came in, his name echoing back in her face as the iron door slams closed, inches from her nose. She gets shoved back through the facility, through the front doors, out to the front gate.

“Let me back in! You can’t keep him here!”

One of the guards cocks his gun, unashamed to point it at her chest, his face like stone. “Keep walking, girl. You ever come back here again, you won’t be leaving so nice. If you leave at all.”

Fera’s head is still spinning from the events and revelations of the last few minutes. In mere moments, her whole world came tumbling down as she looked into Oswald’s eyes.

What she would have given, in that moment, to just have him out of there.

She hears a car door slam shut. She jolts out of her thoughts as her own hand shoves car keys into the ignition. Her heart is pounding in her ears, but she barely even remembers running to the car.

She starts driving, but not to Ed’s.


	14. Empty Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A despondent Fera tries to find Oswald in the things he left behind. All that comes are more worries and regrets.

Oswald’s nightclub had been left untouched since his disappearance two weeks ago. For a moment, Fera wonders what she’s even doing here. The whole place reeks of a nauseating combination of alcohol, dust, and stale perfume. The place’s heat has obviously been turned off by now, but it’s the empty scenery that causes a chill to roll down her spine.

She had, admittedly, only been here a handful of times, but she can still nearly hear the idle chatter of Gotham’s top gangsters as she walks towards the bar in the middle of the lounge. Beyond it, the stage catches her eye, beautiful blue curtains so still, so different without the gentle breeze she often saw when the hall was roaring with life, only weeks ago.

It feels dead, the empty air. There’s no soul left in the place, no light. All the painted glass and stage lights, once so bright, now just hang like skeletons from the ceiling. Oswald’s chair, in the middle of the hall, directly in front of the stage, stands vacant. She peers at it from her usual vantage point near the edge of the bar. It feels cold, distant. This place, once filled with character and style, now looks like it could be on the cover of a home renovations magazine. It admits an aura of unnatural staleness.

It was like Oswald’s eyes today. No life, no character. Nothing was there that could be recognized as ‘Oswald’. An empty shell, soul stripped right out from under him.

Fera had gone to Arkham today because she missed her friend. She didn’t find him there.

She couldn’t find him here, either.

She starts to wonder if her friend may be gone; if the people at Arkham could really do such a thing as beat or brainwash the soul right out of someone. No doubt that the piece of Oswald she had conjured from beneath their grasp would be long gone by the time she’d see him again.

Before the tears can come, she taps into a nice bottle of Port sitting on the shelf in front of her. No matter in concerning herself with the philosophy of thievery—the city will be around to take up everything that’s left of this place in no time. At this point, the place is no longer Oswald’s; it’s as good as dead.

_ Just like everything else. _

From the precious little that Fera remembers about the rest of the afternoon, she knows at least that within the first 20 minutes, she moved from her current seat to the one that was usually Oswald’s, in the center. She took a grand, sweeping look at the room; a whole wide view the way he would have seen it. Of course, the place being empty, there was nothing much to look at. She got up to take a look at the stage, ditching any proper glasses to just swig from the whole bottle in her hand, and that’s when things start to get hazy.

In Fera’s mind, there was music, there was dancing. Her hands graced the piano keys, fingers creating the tune in a perfect replica of the song Ed had played for them all to sing only weeks ago. Her friends’ voices seemed to echo and radiate from the walls, too, until everything was drowned out and she could only hear Oswald. The only true friend she’d had in the last… who knows how long. Maybe her whole life.

Singing became humming, which became crying, which became sobbing.

At some point she broke into a bottle of bourbon. That proved to be a mistake. Time eventually started slipping away, and with it, Fera started to cast into the dark.

_ Dead. He’s as good as dead. _

_ You couldn’t protect him. _

_ You left him to rot in that nightmare prison. _

_ Why did you have to ask questions? _

_ You could have broken him out. You’ve broken him out of torture cages before. _

_ You’ve grown weak. He sensed it. _

_ He left to get rid of you. _

_ You can’t cut it in a life like this. _

_ You can’t cut it in Gotham. _

_ Your family was right, you don’t belong here. _

Just as she settles into one of the lavish couches to wallow, a bang on the door makes her jump. Before she can even think to hide, a figure bursts through the door. Gleaming white cover-alls slam into her vision as her head spins from the alcohol, the fluorescent lights above her only compound the ringing in her ears.

The man is frantically making his way towards her. His eyes wild, hair matted and black like a dog with mange, mouth moving to play her name over and over like a broken record.

“Fera!” Oswald finally yells, staring in her face now.

_ How did I not recognize him until now? _

“Fera, we need to go! They’re coming!” he yells over the screaming of the lights. He practically drags her up from the chair and out into the hallway, already running before Fera looks behind them. It’s only then that she realizes the screaming isn’t from the lights.

Hundreds of bodies tear their way through the blank, bright hallway behind Fera and Oswald. They’re all dressed just like him—white and black striped prison jumpers—but unlike her friend, she can tell there is no soul left in their eyes. They fall over each other in madness, only bloodlust coloring their pale faces. Each and every one of them is either screaming in agony or cackling in hysteria. The cacophony rattles and echoes inside her brain as she stands glued to the floor, watching the crowd grow closer with every second.

“Fera, let’s go!” Oswald yells over the noise, breaking her form its spell. He tugs her hand yet again, and drags her along a twisting path, deep beneath the club.

Fera feels her breath get heavy, and begs Oswald to stop, stumbling forward and almost falling over with the momentum. For a moment, the screams seem to dim. Perhaps they’ve lost them.

“Please,” she wheezes, “can you just tell me why we’re running like this?”

Upon no response, she turns around. “Oswald?”

He’s standing almost frozen, petrified, mouth moving but no sound to accompany it. His arm is outstretched, palm facing toward her, like he’s miming something. But the fear in his eyes tells Fera he’s not playing games.

A single step towards him sheds a different light: a sheen in the air between them. A pane of glass has spread between them in the instant it took Fera to catch her breath. Stunned into silence, she steps forward to face her friend, placing her hand to rest over Oswald’s on the glass.

Just as she does so, the world seems to switch like a mirror. Her left hand on the glass now instead of her right, a darker, dimmer version of the same scene in front of her. In the same instant, the screams return, so much louder than before. She jumps back in surprise, only to find that Oswald does, too. Whipping around, she finds herself seeing the picture play out through Oswald’s eyes: the bodies of Arkham barreling down the hallway towards him, gut-wrenching shrieks filling every crevice of the space between them. When she opens her mouth, it’s Oswald’s voice—screaming in terror—that echoes in her ears. He slides down the cold glass, any hope of escape evaporating from his soul. The cries all cumulate to a peak as the mob crashes forward, hungry— _ starving _ —for blood.

All at once, they pounce, blood already on their lips.

Fera wakes up in the empty club lounge to the sound of her phone ringing.

“Fera, where the hell are you? You were supposed to be back hours ago!”

“Ed, please,” she mumbles, wiping the grogginess from her eyes, “I’m sorry, just keep it down, would you?”

“Are… were you asleep? Did you go home? Why would you go—!”

“No, Ed, I’m at the club.”

Silence from the other end. “The club?” he repeats, incredulous. “Oswald’s club? What happened with Arkham?”

“Never mind. I’m on my way back, I’ll tell you when I get there.”


	15. In Another Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward finally puts together a long-awaited puzzle. Fera discovers she may have more family than she realized.

“He was so different,” Fera explains to Ed over dinner. “It was unsettling. Like he wasn’t even Oswald anymore.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I think they’re hurting him, Ed. We have to get him out.”

“Fera.” Ed reaches across the table to cover her shaking hands with his. “He chose this to keep us safe. We would do well to respect that. And a prison break from Arkham? We could never pull it off without drawing a mass of attention. Let’s face the facts, he’s our friend, but we have to move on.”

She stares down into her coffee. “He’s the only family I have left. How can I just give up on him?”

“I thought you still had your father.”

Fera clears her throat. “Uh… no. He died, actually, a little while before I met you. And with him, died the Grimwald line. He and my mother never considered me family, not after what happened to Dustin.”

“D–” Ed blinks, shaking a sudden rush of memories from his mind. “Dustin Grimwald?” He claps as he straightens up. “Of course! I thought I recognized you, you’re his sister!”

Fera just rolls her eyes. “Yep. Dear, poor Dustin’s little sister. And a great brother he was. Mom and dad’s favorite, don’t know how. They could never see through his bullshit. Or maybe they just didn’t want to.”

Ed swallows. “I know. We graduated high school together.”

Now Fera lights up. “Riddle Boy,” she recalls. “You were the other kid he used to beat after school when he was bored with me.”

He grimaces. “Yeah. I learned pretty early on that there’s a rule about heroes in Gotham. That being,” he clicks his tongue, “there are none.”

“I think you might be right,” she sighs. “Anyone who tries doesn’t last long.”

A moment of silence crosses between them.

She swallows. “It meant a lot to me, though. What you did that day, telling him off.”

“I thought he was going to kill you.”

Fera scratches her neck. “He could have, to be honest. And it would have been fine by anyone, I wouldn’t have even been missed. In another life, it could have been me instead of him that died young and was forgotten. You saved me from that, you know.”

Ed’s face flashes like he’s bitten into a lime. “Don’t mention it. I was waiting for an opportunity to give that guy a piece of my mind.”

“But he just added you to the list,” she says, defeated.

He chuckles bitterly. “Still seems to be a bit of a habit, getting the snot knocked out of me. Although, I killed the last guy that tried something like that. And that finally fighting back… I think that’s what changed me, really.”

“I know what you mean,” she mumbles into her coffee.

He looks her up and down. “I always wondered why your parents didn’t look for the killer,” he says seemingly casually.

Fera looks up, swallowing. “The cops ruled it an accident.” There’s a hint of tense coolness in her voice.

“I remember. It was my first case at the GCPD.”

Silence passes between them as she waits for Ed to continue.

“I know I shouldn’t say it, but a part of me was glad to see him like that. I recognized him the moment I saw him, and my first thought was… that’s a man who got what he deserved.”

She snorts. “Yeah. Yeah, that he did.”

“My second thought was that it wasn’t an accident like they were saying.” He notices Fera stiffen, and continues. “Knowing what kind of person he was, and the whole scene, I could see what the cops couldn’t. He was murdered. But your parents, his own legal guardians, told them not to look for the culprit, so they backed off. I tried to tell them it wasn’t possible, accidentally falling three stories and landing at that angle, but they wouldn’t listen. And then there were the lab results.”

“It was an accident, Ed,” Fera deadpans. “Like you said, he got what he deserved.”

“And then you disappeared,” he continues. “Right off the face of the earth. Rumor was, your parents disowned you, and you left Gotham, seemingly never to return. Why is that?” He looks back at her with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

“They always hated me,” she stares back defiantly. “How should I know what they were thinking?”

He leans over the table toward her. “You poisoned him and threw him out the window of his own apartment.”

Fera leans forward, matching his audacity. “Maybe I did. It was six years ago. Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he smiles. “Just confirming a theory.”

She scoffs. “What theory?”

“Originally, I knew he was murdered, and I thought you had something to do with it. It was just an idea, a seed really, until you skipped town. I’ve always wondered since then. But then I find you returning to Gotham, and making friends with a criminal kingpin. You show up at my doorstep, and that night you tell me that everyone’s got a darkside.” He pauses. “The only people who say that are people who have got a dark side. You’re unphased by the idea of murder, but uncomfortable talking about it. Like a memory you’re trying to forget.”

Fera just sits back, baffled. “Sure, Ed. You got me. But I’m not that person anymore. I’m moving on from my past, I’m trying to be normal.”

Ed chuckles. “Well you’re doing a truly remarkable job,” he says sarcastically.

She almost starts to smile, but her face soon falls. “Yeah. I don’t know exactly what I’m trying to do right now.”

He watches her face fall. It worries him to see Fera so lost. An idea starts to form, and he smiles to himself as he gets up to walk across the room.

Her eyes follow him all the way.

“Fair is fair,” he starts. “You told me about your brother, I’ll show you a secret of my own; something that cheers me up.” He launches into a riddle. “I can make you laugh, I can make you cry. Setting a tune makes it hard to stop. Lovers can not resist me, and once you start, I’ll have you till you drop. What am I?”

He leans over a 30’s-style record player, and sets a disc inside. It starts to scratch, and whir, and suddenly the small apartment is filled with music.

“Edward Nygma, are you asking me to dance with you?”

“I’ve found that dancing is one of the most relaxing and relieving activities one can do for himself,” he explains, heading back towards Fera. He offers his hand, grinning down at her. “But it’s far more fun with a partner.”

_Nobody’s ever asked me to dance before._

She takes his hand as the lyrics start to play.

He sings along with them. “I see trees of green… red roses too…”

“What a Wonderful World?” she laughs, standing closer to him. “An excellent choice, though I must admit I’m a little surprised.”

“It’s calming,” he admits as she attempts to lay her head down on his shoulder, though due to the height difference she winds up just over his heart. “But I only know the first verse. You may need to help me finish.”

“What makes you think I know it?”

“Just a hunch. Do you?”

She hums contentedly, then sings with the next verse. “I see skies of blue, and clouds of white—”

“I thought as much,” he says, self-satisfied.

She takes a deep breath, closing her mind to her many worries for just a moment. “My grandmother used to sing it to me when I was a child. She lived on the mainland. I used to spend some nights over the summer there to get away from the city.”

“You mean, to get away from your family.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I guess. She had a whole room devoted to her library. I made every excuse to spend all my time there.”

“I know how it goes. Video games did the same for me, when I couldn’t leave the house.”

She pauses, listening back to the music and the gentle thrum of Ed’s heartbeat, the soft motion of swaying in unison captivating her senses. A sinking feeling in her gut threatens to envelope her.

“Do people like us deserve simple pleasures like this?”

“Does anyone?” he responds.

“You know what I mean.”

_—I see friends shaking hands, Saying, "How do you do?"—_

He turns his head to look into her eyes sincerely. “Fera, even criminals and crazy people need a reason to dance.”

_—They're really saying, "I love you"—_

Fera’s life flashes before her eyes in a single moment. No one—not her family, not her classmates, no coworkers, professors, or acquaintances—had ever tried to get as close to her as Ed has in the last few weeks.

_I never thought I’d have a family again. They told me I’d never deserve one. But something in his eyes tells me a different story. Maybe freaks like us can have something, too._

_Wait, but I’m not a freak. I'm not like him. I’m different._

_Aren’t I?_

Deep under her skin, Fera’s chest starts to tighten. Tears form in her eyes, and she steps back out of his embrace to get air into her lungs again.

Whatever confidence Ed had aired in their moment of comfort immediately dissolves. “What’s wrong? I… I’m sorry if I overstepped—”

“No, it’s not you, Ed, it’s okay. There’s just something I need to do.” She quickly grabs her coat and rushes out of the apartment.

His heart nearly stops as he watches her go, the suddenness of her reaction freezing him in place.

_—And I think to myself, What a wonderful world—_

Fera drives to Gertrude’s resting place. She stands before the newly laid plot just as the sun sinks into the horizon.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into the still winter air as she lays a lily near the headstone. “I promised you, once, that I would be good to Oswald. But I’ve failed. As a friend, and a sister, and a daughter to you. The man we knew surely died today.”

The only sound in reply is a small animal shuffling the trees nearby.

“You wanted a better life for him. A normal life. How? How would you try to turn monsters like us into citizens?” She pauses to wipe a tear from her eye. “I’m trying. You’re the closest thing I have to a normal family now. You accepted me, through Oswald. So tell me, how do I stop this? I just want a life like yours. A cozy apartment. Someone who cares for me, but not a care for the world. What can I do to let the years pass, and turn out like you?”

_I can die, for starters._

She’s almost shocked when she thinks it, but knows she’s right.

_People like me don’t make it in this town. Not without losing their minds in the process._

_Sometimes we just are who we are, right?_

She looks down at the grave in front of her. The stone is cold and silent. Carved in it is a name few people knew, and fewer cared about. Most of her life will go unappreciated; unremembered after Fera and Oswald. No legacy, nothing of note to leave behind. Just a vast void where there was once life.

Fera wraps her arms around herself as she looks up into the darkened sky. More than just the cold, it’s the starless abyss above her that gives her chills. Her breath starts to cling to the air, joining the rest of the familiar Gotham fog.

_People like you could never make it in this town. You were too soft. Too good._

_A life like yours, that isn’t really what I want, is it?_

_It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s not who I am. I can never have what you had. The faster I accept that, the better off I’ll be._ _I can’t be like you._

_Maybe it’s time to be like me._


	16. Kristen's Ghost Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fera and Ed have spent a lot of time together, but all good things must come to an end when it puts their safety at risk. Their friendship transforms into a partnership for one last hurrah before they say goodbye.

It’s around this time that Ed sits down with Fera for a talk.

“Jim Gordon is closing in on me for the disappearance of Kristen Kringle. Despite this, I can not stop or back down. This is who I am now, and I need to fight for my place in this city, but I know that Gordon is going to get in the way of that.”

Fera rubs her forehead. “Jim Gordon is really starting to become a thorn in my side.”

“He’s dangerous. He’s a cop, he can do what he wants. And if he wants to come after me, I’m preparing for a fight. But in order to come out ahead, I need space to think.”

“So what you’re saying is…”

“I think it’s time for you to go,” he deadpans. “Clearly, no one is coming after you for Penguin. I trust that you’re safe. And with this Jim Gordon problem, the best thing we can do for each other is to stay as far away from each other as possible.”

“Unless I could help you,” she blurts out. “With the… Jim Gordon problem. I’ve been looking into Oswald’s old connections, maybe I could see if he’s got any more dirt?”

Ed presses his fingertips together. “Actually,” he admits, mind turning, “somehow, I believe you could.” He thinks for a moment. “Let me show you what I’m working with.”

Ed grabs a few files he’d pulled from the GCPD, then explains his nefarious Gordon-catching plot to an over-eager Fera.

“Using his own weaknesses to pull him into a trap of his own devising,” Fera muses. “It’s genius.”

Ed grins. “I know.”

“Too bad one of those other cops has to die. You’re sure it’s the only way?”

“We  _ have _ to peg him for silencing a witness. This is the only air-tight solution.”

Fera runs her hand over the files laid out in front of her. “Picked which one yet?”

“Working on it.”

A while passes with them sitting over the police files. Each one has their pros and cons, but one finally sticks out to Fera. She picks up the file again to give it another look-over to make sure she’s got everything right.

“Hey Ed.”

He looks up.

“What’s between white and red, and the femur and fibula?” She turns the photo around for him to see.

A grin washes over his face. “Perfect.”

They’ve had a great time, and she’s been a lot of help, but eventually, the time must come.

“You can always stop by for a visit, of course,” he reassures her, closing the door on her way out. “But do call ahead.”

That afternoon, she moves back into her old apartment. The entire space suddenly feels colder, despite calling the place home for the last three years. Oswald gone, her father gone, and now Ed letting her go, too.

But now is not the time for self-pity. Now is the time for survival. She keeps the tv on for ears on the news, but a resolve forms in Fera that sets a fire in her stomach. One person has stood out from the crowd as a villain beyond villains; a liar and a cheater who believes himself above the law. Over and over, he takes from Fera everything she holds dear, but now is the time to build a case, to put a stop to his reign of terror.

In the meantime, she keeps her ears open for Oswald’s release, Ed’s blossoming identity…

And the ruin of Jim Gordon.

And she wasn’t kidding, what she said about Oswald’s old contacts. She knows where to find a few, if only they’d let her in…


	17. Hello, Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sudden return of an old friend shocks Fera, but their reunion is short-lived, and she realizes they both have changed far too much to return to the way they used to be.

Not too long after she moves back to the apartment, Fera is watching news coverage of a museum robbery from that morning when she is startled by an unexpected phone call. For a moment, she thinks it might be Ed, but when she looks, it’s from a number she doesn’t recognize. Reluctantly, she answers.

“Fera?” Oswald’s voice echoes.

She nearly drops the phone in shock. “Oswald, how are you? How did you get to a phone?”

“Arkham is releasing me. Today. The doctor says I’m sane!”

Fera remains silent, fully overwhelmed.

“I need someone to come pick me up.”

She finally breathes again. “Does that mean you get to come home?”

“Yes, as soon as you want. I’m totally free to go.”

“Then yes, Oswald, that’s fantastic news. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Within the hour, Fera’s rust red hatchback is parked outside the gates of Arkham Asylum. The late autumn wind sends a chill down her spine, compounded by the memories she has from the last time she set eyes on the institution. Across the gate, she locks eyes with the guard who threatened her that day, but her mind sets the fear aside when she sees Oswald himself pass through the gates.

She pulls a black coat and hat out of the passenger’s seat as he approaches, but before she can even offer them, she finds herself wrapped in a bear hug.

“I’ve so missed you,” Oswald says, smiling wide. “Thank you so much for being here. What a blessed day, reunited again with my best friend!”

Helplessly, Fera smiles back. “It’s so good to see you, Oswald. I can’t wait to have you back home.”

“Yes,” he nods. “I’m ready to go back home and begin life anew. But there are a few people I’d like to see first.”

So Fera drives him all over town, to see one friend after another. To apologize, apparently, for the way he treated them when he was ‘insane’.

First they visit Oswald’s old stomping grounds from his days as criminal kingpin.

“Butch is running things now,” Fera says. “You want to find him, this is where he’ll be.”

“You kept up on my friends while I was away?” Oswald shakes his head, smiling. “That’s so thoughtful of you.”

She nods solemnly. “It kept you close, gave me a purpose for a while. I thought I could find pieces of you in the things you left behind.” She swallows to calm her shaking voice. “It wasn’t the same, though.”

“But it paid off, after all,” he encourages. “Now I can go say hi to Butch. It wasn’t for nothing.”

When they pull up, something makes her feel uneasy. From what she was hearing on the streets, Butch and Tabitha still don’t like Penguin very much. They’re likely not going to be very welcoming.

“Do you want me to come in with you? Just as a buffer, or…”

Oswald waves her off. “Don’t worry about it. The past is the past, and I know they’ll see that. Besides, I have cupcakes! Who can say no to an old friend with cupcakes?”

_They really did a number on him…_

“Of course, Oswald. I’ll stay outside, just shout if you need something.”

While her friend is inside the old meeting bunker, Fera turns on the radio.

_—bombing at Union Station less than an hour ago. Hero cop, Gotham’s Golden Boy, Jim Gordon saves the day again by—_

She switches off the radio in a huff.

_Stupid Jim Gordon. It’s all his fault Oswald went to that looney bin in the first place. Some hero; he killed Galavan and let Oswald take the fall for it. He’s lying to everyone, maybe even to himself, and letting other people pay the price._

She jumps at a knock on her window, and Butch Gilzean’s face appears above her. Fera looks around for Oswald, and finds him behind Butch, covered in tar and feathers. Aghast, she pushes her way out of the car.

“Nice to see you again,” Butch says, dragging Fera’s attention away from Oswald. “Don’t worry, we didn’t hurt him. Just a nice little goodbye to our feathered friend. And a little message that we don’t wanna see either of you around here anymore.”

Fera squirms. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Can it,” he says, unnervingly calm. “I know you’ve been spying on me. Forget it. I know you were best buddies with a criminal kingpin once, but you're way out of your depth here, kid. Take your little bird and go home. This isn’t the place for you.”

He snaps his fingers at his guards, who release Oswald’s shoulders. He starts to waddle into the car as Butch turns to head back inside.

“And where do you suppose _is_ the place for me, Butch?” Fera calls behind him.

He turns around, nonchalant. “To be honest, sweetheart, I don’t know and I don’t care. But you’re a civilian, and this is deep water. Not even Penguin could make it in this business; you don’t stand a chance. Take my advice, as a friend of a friend: go home, take care of him, be normal.”

Fera’s glare shoots daggers at his back when he turns away.

_Normal, my ass. If he only knew._

But she gets back in the car, and she and Oswald continue on to their next destination.

It’s only a matter of minutes until they’re knocking on his apartment door.

“Fera?”

“I know you told me to call ahead,” she grins up at Ed, “but I thought you’d want to be surprised.”

His face falls. “You know, I really don’t like—”

He gasps when the previously-hidden Oswald steps out into the doorway.

“Penguin!” he starts to laugh, looking back and forth between him and Fera. “This is incredible!”

“I would have called you, but I only found out myself a few hours ago.”

“May we come in?”

“Oh my, where are my manners, of course!” Ed steps aside, allowing them in.

But very soon, Ed realizes what Fera meant when she said Oswald was… _different_.

“What is… what is this? What happened?” he asks, glancing at Oswald’s new feathers.

“Oh, just good old Butch and Tabitha having fun,” he replies with a chuckle. “They talked about killing me, so this was actually pretty nice of them, considering.”

“Pretty nice of them?” Ed repeats, eyes flicking to Fera in worry.

She won’t meet his gaze, but tenses under it just the same.

“They did a pretty good job on you at Arkham, huh?”

“I’m here to tell you, Ed,” Oswald says in complete sincerity, “as a friend, violence and anger are not the answer. I am a changed man. _Better._ And you can change, too.”

Ed shifts uncomfortably, musing over the thought. “Cool,” he says coldly. “Tempting offer. Thing is, the me I am right now is kind of hitting my stride. And I’m really grateful for all that you’ve taught me, and that bad stuff you told me about Jim Gordon is really paying off.” A laugh rises from his throat at the thought of his own schemes coming together as they have.

“Is it?” Oswald asks eagerly.

“It is. It’s helped me to create the perfect puzzle to get rid of my Jim Gordon dilemma. Normally I would love to share, but to be honest, the new you is kinda freaking me out.”

A silence hangs in the air for a moment. Ed finally meets Fera’s eyes, who broke out of her spell when he mentioned Jim Gordon. He locks on her gaze.

_You haven’t told him you’ve changed too._

She holds just as strong.

_No. And I don’t plan to._

Ed slides open the front door. “I’m just… really busy right now.”

“Well, then we’ll be on our way,” Oswald agrees.

“Thanks for coming by,” Ed says insincerely as he passes. He stops Fera for a second before she follows Oswald out into the hallway. “You were right about Pinkney, he didn’t stand a chance. Call me tonight?”

“We’ll see how it goes,” she whispers back. “Our last stop is to see his mother, so it’ll depend how well he handles it.”

He sucks in a breath. “Yeah, good luck with that.’’

With that, Fera steps out with Oswald, and they make their way out of the apartment.

When they get out to the car, Oswald asks if he can go home and clean up before heading to see his mother’s grave for the first time.

“It’s the least I could do, to be presentable, since I couldn’t make it to the funeral.”

“Of course,” Fera agrees. “Of course we can stop at home.”

Silence passes for a moment as the city rolls across his window.

“How was it?” he finally asks.

“The funeral?”

Silence again.

Fera remembers the funeral. It was held only a few days before Oswald was transported to Arkham, while he was still in hiding. She had spared no expense, despite the debt—coffin, flowers, headstone, rabbi, eulogy in the papers. It looked like rain: dark grey clouds covered the sun all day long, but not a drop of water was shed all afternoon. Fera recognized many of those who attended, though there weren’t many in the first place. A couple of Gertrude’s neighbors, Oswald’s old mob buddies, one wealthy old man who must have been connected through money. Then just herself, and Ed.

And Jim Gordon. They never spoke—in fact he stayed only for a matter of minutes of the 45-minute ceremony—but for a moment, it confused Fera about his humanity.

_How could he send Oswald to Arkham for a murder he commited, right after attending his mother’s funeral like a friend? What kind of man does that make him?_

“It was a gorgeous day,” Fera smiles as she tells Oswald. “It was like the sky and nature itself was celebrating her beautiful life. The place was so packed with everyone she loved, I thought the whole town could have been there. There were so many people who wanted to speak, the ceremony lasted for hours. It brought tears to my eyes more than once, I’m not ashamed to admit.”

Hearing this, Oswald raises his head, and nods slowly, then smiles. “I’m glad to hear it. It’s what she deserved.”

Fera keeps herself together just long enough to pull up to the apartment. “Yes. A ceremony like that is exactly what she deserved.”

Inside the apartment, she lays decent clothes out for Oswald, and attempts to find out how to pull tar out of wool as he cleans himself up. Within the hour, it’s back on the road to find Gertrude Kapelput’s gravesite.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come up with you?” Fera asks in concern. “I know how difficult it can be, to see it for the first time.”

“No, no,” Oswald waves her off. “I want some time alone with her. It’ll be good for me.”

Fera turns on the radio again while she waits for Oswald.

— _bombing at Union Station may be connected to this morning’s museum robbery. Police are not yet releasing whether they have any suspects. Hero detective Jim Gordon still hot on the trail of this museum-bomber—_

Fera fumes.

_Enough with this Jim Gordon. Ed better hurry up and finish this thing before I go crazy with all this Jim Gordon nonsense. Some hero._

_He hasn’t got the guts to show the world what kind of man he really is._

Fera jumps when she hears a knock on the window.

_I really need a doorbell for this thing._

“What’s going on, Oswald?” she asks him, stepping out into the street.

He’s grinning ear to ear. “Fera… you’ll never guess, but this is my father.” He gestures to the older man standing just behind him. “Elijah van Dahl.”

For a moment, Fera is baffled, but then she remembers. The rich man at the funeral.

“I’ve seen you before. You were here for Gertrude.”

“That’s right.” He pulls his hand out from his heavy coat pocket. “It’s nice to meet you formally. Thank you so much for what you did, putting it all together like that.”

“Fera tells me it was quite the beautiful occasion,” Oswald muses.

At first he looks confused, but upon Fera’s intense stare and subtle nod, he warily agrees. “Yes, beautiful indeed. A sight to remember.”

The way he’s standing so close to Oswald—shoulders tucked towards him, hand on his back—makes Fera uneasy.

_He is an old, lonely man. He wants his son back. Of course he does. He wants to get to the Penguin._

She clears her throat. “I can’t help but feel that this little rendezvous is for more than just introductions, Mr. van Dahl.”

He shifts on his feet. “Well, yes, in fact. I’d like to bring young Oswald home with me, finally, for some catching up.”

“Please, Fera?” Oswald pipes up. His face is filled with such innocent joy, like a young boy asking his mother for permission to buy a candy. “It’s my dad. It’s my family, my blood. I have to know.”

She looks between Oswald and his father for a moment. The resemblance is soft—he certainly takes most after Gertrude—but it’s there. And he seems so pleased to have found his family, at last. For Fera, Oswald was enough. Ed was enough. But she never had a true blood family of her own, so why should she assume that she was enough for Oswald? What kind of a friend would she be to stand in the way of a good family reunion? They can often be disappointing, she knows too well, but not all of them. Perhaps not this one.

“Of course, Oswald. But do call, if you can.”

He grins wider and nods vigorously. “Of course, of course. I’ll tell you all about it.”

She nods, and he scampers off in the direction of van Dahl’s car. Just as his father is about to follow, she grabs his arm.

“What are you—?”

“I hope you don’t have any ill-intentions for my friend,” she hisses in his ear. “Because if I find out that anything has happened to him, you’ll be getting a swift visit from me. One I will ensure that you do not enjoy. Have I made myself clear?”

“I promise you,” he says, shaking, “I have only the best intentions for my son. I loved Gertrude. If I had known about him before today, I would have taken care of them both, I swear.”

She looks him up and down, then releases him. “I believe you,” she says, sincerely.

He straightens his jacket, analyzing her. “I can see you care for him. I appreciate that. Know that you are welcome to visit any time you like.”

Fera nods warily, and he turns to catch up with Oswald. She takes another look at the man who immediately opened his home to someone who had just threatened him. Perhaps he’s a good father. Perhaps he’s just crazy. Perhaps both at once.

She watches their car disappear into the distance, then heads back home herself.

“I just let him go,” she whispers into the phone, running her fingers through her hair. “I _just_ got him back, Ed, and I let some schmuck with a silver-lined coat take him away again, just as things could have gone back to normal.”

“Maybe they weren’t going back to normal,” Ed says from the other end as Fera flops onto the couch. “Perhaps this is for the best. Oswald is not the same man we knew. And you are not the same person he knew, either. He’s going to go live in a big house, with a man equally soft and normal as he is, truly comfortable for the first time in his life. New beginnings for him, for all of us.” He pauses. “And how long do you think it would have taken to discover this new side of you? You think he would have put up with it?”

She grunts. “No. But I could have kept it hidden for at least a while, and you saw how incredibly unobservant he was.” She sighs. “But you’ve had a busy day yourself, I hear.”

Ed’s voice brightens. “Everything we talked about went totally according to plan. You were right, I was overestimating the intelligence of our police force. They never saw it coming. It was perfect.”

“Wish I could have seen it, it sounded like a masterpiece from what I heard on the radio.”

“I watched him get pulled out of the Bullpen like a chicken on a rope. Barnes was so infuriated I could almost see the smoke pouring out of his ears. It was just incredible.”

Fera hears his cackle from the other end, and smiles herself. “You didn’t celebrate while you were still in the building, did you?”

“Nonsense. We’re saving celebrations for tonight. That is, unless you’re otherwise occupied with your empty apartment.”

“No,” she says flatly, though the comment still stings. “I’ll be over.”

As the sun sets, Fera and Ed are sitting around his dining table.

“This is it, Ed. We’re finally going to be rid of that nightmare in blue.”

He raises his glass of wine. “To the fall of Jim Gordon. And the rise of a new Gotham.”

“To the death of an old fantasy,” she offers, “and may this town finally wake up and realize there are no such things as heroes.”

The trial lasts four weeks, but eventually, Jim Gordon is finally locked up in Blackgate with a forty year sentence.


	18. Family Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fera meets Oswald's new family. 'Grossly underprepared' does not even begin to describe her when she reaches the Van Dahl estate.

A few weeks go by without incident. Fera and Ed stay connected, though not as much as they used to. Ed, of course, continues his life at the GCPD, vigilant in his efforts to keep any new evidence in favor of Jim Gordon under control.

No matter; she’s been busy putting some of her skills to work, making careful connections in Gotham’s underworld, keeping up just enough of Oswald’s old habits. She had tried to go back to her old life, she really did. But the silence became too much—she had to find something to busy her mind and body, and little else passed the test of time. She wanders the streets, making friends, putting out fires for them, receiving something in return. Really, it’s like a business. Misfortune-for-hire. Ruin someone’s day, make a new friend and a few extra bucks. Only one rule: no murder.

“I’m no killer,” she has to say a few times, “just good with people, in my own way.”

Oswald checks in every now and then. He has a new step-family; he’s very happy with them. He admits that he enjoys this new life, putting his past behind him.

A creeping feeling boils in Fera’s stomach; his words remind her of her own, when she originally moved back to Gotham. The idea of leaving her old family and life in the dust seemed, at the time, such a real opportunity. But she knows now, one way or another, the truth always returns. Despite herself, she smiles at his naivety. He’s not the same man he was, but if he’s happy, she’s happy for him. To escape a complicated past is no small feat. Perhaps this is his truth now.

He invites her to dinner once things have gotten more settled in, apologizing for not doing it sooner. His new step-mother is, apparently, uncomfortable with strangers, but he’d been begging since he’d first arrived and she had finally relented.

“Family should know family,” he says on the phone, “and you are certainly that.”

She graciously accepts, eager to meet this new family of his.

The night of the big event, she rifles through her closet for anything that might reasonably fare an adventure to a wealthy residence. Hanger after hanger, a few shirts, a blouse, a button-down. In a huff of disappointment, she closes her closet, and flicks a hidden button beside the door. The satisfying  _ click _ from inside makes her smile, and she pulls from behind the wall various trophies of her recent exploits: glittery tanks, full pant- and skirt-suits in various colors, and a handful of expensive-looking, yet particularly comfortable dresses. Not to worry where they came from, Fera knew the original owners were happy to give them up, eventually. Not like they’d deserved them in the first place anyways. She picks the blue drop-waist and a few accompanying accessories. A pair of sleek, knee-high, high-heeled boots. She even digs the curling iron out from deep underneath her bed, and heats her hair into beachy waves. By the time she’s ready to walk out the door, she’s dressed like a fashion-district regular. It’s unusual for her only because she never dresses up outside of work, most days being spent in jeans and a hoodie.

But tonight, she wants them to like her. She so  _ desperately  _ wants them to like her. Perhaps, if they like her, she’ll get to see him more often. Maybe they’d even welcome her into their life, too. Family is family, as Oswald and his father have said. Maybe she’d even give up what she has now, just to have a family like he has: one that accepts a past, is able to move on. What a wonderful, loving family that must be.

She lets these thoughts carry her all the way to the Van Dahl mansion.

_ Grossly underprepared _ does not even begin to describe Fera that night.

From her first look at the mansion, she can already tell she’s in way over her head. It rises into the sky like a grand hotel, less like a house and more like a movie set. The only thing she can imagine is how lonely it must, to be in such a huge space without enough people to fill it, to make it sound like company.

_ Maybe they host balls here, _ she thinks on her way to the front door.

_ Do rich people even do that kind of thing anymore? _

She is greeted by a strapping young boy about her age, wearing a full tux. He leads her through the house, and Fera can’t help but let her mouth drop open at the sight of it. Each hall is lined with portraits and porcelain from every place on Earth. By the time she makes it to the living room, she is overwhelmed.

And, apparently, far underdressed. Somehow.

_ Some-freaking-how. Of course even normal dress for the fashion district would be under-dressed for an evening with millionaires. _

Oswald, his father, his step-brother are all in tuxes. The step-mother and daughter are dolled up all in jewels from head to toe, hair pulled even tighter than their obviously forced smiles as Oswald hobbles forward, throwing his arms around Fera.

“Fera! I’m so happy you could make it!”

“Hello Oswald,” she swallows, mind still turning over itself. “It’s so good to see you.”

“This is my new family,” he says, turning to them. “Elijah, my father, who you’ve met, plus Charles, Sasha, and Grace, my lovely step-mother.”

Fera tips her head to each one in turn, blood running cold at the snake-like glare Grace serves her. “Nice to meet you all,” she says quickly.

“Everyone, this is Fera, my best friend. She’s been like my family until I met you.”

“Wonderful,” Grace says, in a voice that matches the sharpness of her stare.

“Well then,” Elijah cuts in, “since introductions are settled, shall we move to the dining room?”

“So. Fera,” Sasha starts as the first course is being served. “Where are you living?”

“I have an apartment on the upper east side.”

“So many good memories there,” Oswald nods.

“That’s not too far from the dangerous part of town, don’t you think Charles?”

“Oh yes,” the boy nods sarcastically. “I sure hope you’re safe.”

Fera smiles politely, nearly choking down her next bite. “Yes, well, I have some friends around. We all look after each other.”

“It does fascinate me how those less fortunate can find happiness in the least of things,” Elijah smiles at her, genuinely in awe.

“Well, I had Oswald,” Fera jumps to defend herself. “We had friends. Life was difficult, of course, but we weren’t impoverished.”

Grace nods, falsely sympathetic. “Of course, dear. Of course not.”

“And what do you do that can’t afford you a better place than the upper east side?”

“I work with pharmaceuticals,” she smiles.

_ Not technically a lie. Let them assume I’m a scientist; they don’t need to know I’m a cashier. _

“You must have some kind of degree for that,” Charles encourages.

“Yes. A bachelor’s in both psychology and biology, and a few years towards a doctorate in biochemistry.”

“Only a few? You’re not in school  _ still, _ at this age?”

Fera opens her mouth to rebuke the dig  _ at this age _ —she’s only 27—but takes a breath and starts again. “No. Unfortunately, my father fell ill almost three years ago now, and I had to drop out of school to take care of him.”

“You poor girl,” Elijah coos. “Was there no one else to help you?”

“A friend or two, to spend my days with,” she admits. “But my mother and brother died a while ago, so we had no one else, really.”

“Grimwald,” Grace muses. “I haven’t heard the name. Your family, I’m sure, was never a prominent one in Gotham.”

“No,” she laughs, “not unless you consider the most basic, normal, lower-middle class family you’ve ever seen ‘prominent’.”

“We don’t,” Sasha says sharply.

“Well, all the better,” Fera bites back, finally getting irritated. She had tried to be light and understanding, but it seemed these people were just out to get her now. “I don’t believe in family names. I find they can get a person opportunities that should only be presented on personal merit.”

Charles scoffs. “That’s exactly what a lower class person  _ would _ say, isn’t it?”

“Oh?” she snaps, “and how many degrees do you have, Charles? That your family name or fortune hasn’t cheated you into.”

Gasps erupt around the table before Oswald jumps to her aid.

“Perhaps we should table conversations about the past.” He laughs uncomfortably. “Families can so often be complicated, as we know.”

“Yes,” Fera thinks quickly, ignoring the dissatisfied huffs from his step-family. “How has your adjustment been, Oswald? I feel like I barely get to hear from you.”

“Yes, well—”

“Well you must know,” Grace says, “people with as many resources as we have, we have a lot to keep up on, busy with politics and Gotham’s affairs.” She sneers. “Or I suppose you wouldn’t know, would you?”

Fera just glares at her.

“Oswald has been just wonderful,” Elijah says over the table. “He fits in so seamlessly here in the family.”

“Oh yes,” Charles says tightly.

“We’ve had such fun.” Sasha’s smile looks more like a snarl.

_ They don’t like him. Of course they don’t. He’s going to ruin their chances at Elijah’s fortune. But they’ve got another thing coming if I ever hear— _

“What do you do for fun, my dear?” Elijah leans in to ask.

Fera shakes the fog from her head and thinks for a moment. “I spend a bit of time with friends in the Fashion District.”

The rest of the table is taken aback, including Oswald.

“You still hang around the Fashion District?” he gapes at her.

“Why not?” she asks, praying now that he won’t remember why they have friends there. She could never forgive herself if he thought she was betraying him by carrying on the work of his past.

Sasha purses her lips. “And do these friends of yours know you’re from the upper east side?”

“Oh, they don’t mind. We met through business.” She perks up. “Oswald’s business, in fact. Did you know he used to run a club in the Fashion District? It opened so many doors for us when we needed it most, remember Oswald?”

Elijah places a hand over his heart. “My Oswald, run a club? You’re joking.”

“No, sir. He’s quite charismatic and straightforward when he’s got a good team behind him. There is really nothing he can’t do if he puts his heart on it.” She turns to him sincerely. “It’s something I’ve always admired about him, as a friend.”

“No, no, you flatter me,” Oswald waves her off, but smiles all the same.

“Oswald, so modest.” She turns back to the rest of the group. “What, you haven’t noticed?”

“Our step-brother has been quite the pet to have around,” Charles says with a bite, “but to be fair to him, he hasn’t yet shown this fabled charismatic side around his family.”

The smug look on his face makes Fera’s skin crawl.

_ I know what you’re really after, spoiled freak. _

_ Taking advantage of this poor old man, and now his son. _

_ Pretending to be in it for family. _

_ For love? If that’s the story you’re going with— _

“Fera,” Oswald gently places a hand on her arm. “Are you okay?” he asks, genuinely concerned.

“What?” She shakes the cobwebs from her head, just realizing she was glaring daggers at Charles for far longer than she thought.

“I feel threatened!” Charles shouts, a small grin pulling at the side of his mouth for a moment before disappearing. “She was threatening me! Someone get rid of her, now!”

Everyone jumps up at once.

“What? No, I—”

“Elijah, she threatened my son—”

“Bellboy, come get this girl—”

“No, Fera didn’t mean anything by it—”

“Get her out!”

Before she can even think straight, Fera is shoved out the door, and it slams in her face.


End file.
